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BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 



ABROAD AGAIN; 

OR, 

A Fresh Foray in Foreign Lands. 

Uniform with this Volume. 
Price, $2.50. 



LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 



TRAVELS IN FOREIGN LANDS 

BY CURTIS GUILD 

EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COMMERCIAL BULLETIN 



OVER THE OCEAN 

OR SIGHTS AND SCENES IN FOREIGN LANDS 

$2 50 



ABROAD AGAIN 
OR A FRESH FORAY IN FOREIGN FIELDS 

$2.50 



BRITONS AND MUSCOVITES 

OR TRAITS OF TWO EMPIRES 

$2 00 



PUBLISHED BY LEE AND SHEPARD 

10 MILK STREET NEXT OLD SOUTH MEETING-HOUSE 
BOSTON 



OVER THE OCEAN; 



OR, 



SIGHTS AND SCENES 



FOREIGN LANDS. 



CURTIS GUILD, 

EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COMMERCIAL BULLETIN. 



BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

1899 



I THE LIBRARY I 
loVCOMORBM! 



29289 

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 

By LEE AND SHEPARD, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Copyright, 1899, by Curtis Guild. 



All Rights Reserved. 



Over the Ocean. 

two cop. lv - 

...>R 10 1899 J 



rv. t 



(X (A 







PREFACE. 



The following pages are the record of the fruition of years 
of desire and anticipation ; probably the same that fills the 
hearts of many who will read them — a tour in Europe. 

The habits of observation, acquired by many years' con- 
stant occupation as a journalist, were found by the author 
to have become almost second nature, even when the duties 
of that profession were thrown aside for simple gratification 
and enjoyment; consequently, during a journey of nearly 
seven months, which was enjoyed with all the zest of a first 
tour, the matter which composes this volume was prepared. 

Its original form was in a series of sketches in the columns 
of the Boston Commercial Bulletin. In these the writer at- 
tempted to give as vivid and exact an idea of the sights 
and scenes which he witnessed as could be conveyed to 
those who had never visited Europe. 

Whether describing Westminster Abbey, or York Minster, 
Stratford-on-Avon, or the streets of London; the wonders 
of the Louvre, or the gayeties and glitter of Paris ; the gran 
deur of the Alpine passes ; the quaintness of old continental 
cities; experiences of post travelling ; the romantic beauties 

(iii) 



PREFACE. 



of the Italian lakes ; the underground wonders of Adelsberg, 
or the aqueous highways of Venice, — the author aimed to 
give many minute particulars, which foreign letter-writers 
deem of too little importance to mention, but which, never- 
theless, are of great interest to the reader. 

That the effort was, in some measure, successful, has been 
evinced by a demand for the sketches in permament form, 
sufficient to warrant the publication of this volume. 

In so presenting them, it is with the belief that it may be 
pleasant to those who have visited the same scenes to re- 
visit them in fancy with the writer, and with a hope that 
the volume may, in some degree, serve as a guide to those 
who intend to go " over the ocean," as well as an agreeable 

entertainment to the stay-at-homes. 

C. Q. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAttl 

doing Abroad. — What it costs. — Hints to Tourists. — I ife on board Ship 

Land Ho ! — Examining Luggage. — The Emerald Isle. — Blarney Castle. — 
Dublin. — Dublin Castle. — St. Patrick's Cathedral. — Cheap John's Paradise. 
— Phoenix Park. — Across the Irish Sea. — Railroad travelling in England. — 
3uard vs. Conductor. — "Word to the Wise. — Railroad Stations. — An Old 
English City. — Chester Cathedral. — The City Walls 1-28 



CHAPTER II. 

Chester to I Jverpool. — An English Breakfast. — A Trial of Patience. — Liv- 
erpool Docks. — St. George's Hall.— Poverty and Suffering. — The Lake 
District. —Home of the Poets. — Keswick. — An English Church. — The 
Druids' Temple. — Brougham Hall. —A Roadside Inn 2S-40 



CHAPTER III. 

Edinburgh. — Historic Streets. — Edinburgh Castle. — Bonnie Dundee. - 
Rooms of Historic Story. — The Scottish Regalia. — Curiosities of the Old 
City.— Holyrood Palace. — Relies of the Past. — Ilolyrood Abbey. — Anti- 
quarian Museum. — Scott and Scotland. — Hawthornden. — Roslin Chapel. 

— Melrose Abbey. — The Abbey Hotel.— Abbotsford. — Stirling Castle.— 
The Tournament Field. — Field of Bannockburn. — Lady of the Lake Scenes. 

— Scotch Lakes and Hills 47-71 



CHAPTER IV. 

Glasgow Cathedral. — Vestiges of Vandalism. — Bible Stories in Colored 
Glass. — The Actor's Epitaph. — TamO'Shanter's Ride. — Burns's Cottage. 
— Kirk Alloway — A Reminder from the Witches. — Bonnie Doon. — New- 

T 



VI CONTENTS. 

castle on-Tync — York. — Beauties of York Minster. -Old Sax jn Relics, 

— Sheffield. — The Cutlery Works. — English Mechanics. — English Ale.— 
Chatsworth. — Interior of the Palace. — Sculpture Gallery— Landscape 
Effects. — Grand Conservatory. — Haddon Hall 80-1U 

CHAPTER V. 

KeniJworth. — Stratford on Avon. — Interesting Mementos. — Stratford 
Church. — Shakespeare's Safeguard. — Warwick Castle. — Dungeon and Fall. 

— Warder's Horn and Warwick Vase. — Leicester's Hospital. — Bcauchamp 
Chapel. — Mugby Junction. — Oxford. —The Mitre Tavern. — Bodleian Li- 
brary. — Literary Treasures. — Curiosities and Rarities. — Story of an Old 
Portrait. — Queen Bess on Matrimony. — Addison's Walk. — Boating on the 
Isis. — Martyr's Memorial 116-161 

CHAPTER VI. 

London. — Feeing Servants. — Railway Porters. — London Hotels. — Sights 
in London Streets. — Cabs and Cab-drivers. — London Shops. — Hints to 
Buyers. — A London Banking-house. — Routine vs. Courtesy. — Westmin- 
ster Abbey. — Tombs of Kings and Warriors. — Poets' Corner. — Tributes 
to Genius. — Penny Steamboat Trip. — Kew Gardens. — The Star and Gar- 
ter 152- 18J 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Original Wax Works. — London Theatres. — Full Dress at the Opera. — 
Play Bills. — A Palace for the People. — Parks of London. — ZoBlogical Gar- 
dens.— The Tower of London.— The Silver Key.— Site of the Scaffold.— 
Knights in Armor. — Regalia of England. — St Paul's. — The Whisporing 
Gallery. — Up into the Ball. — Down into the Crypt. — Gog and Magog. — 
Bank of Eugland. — Hampton Court Palace. — The Gardens and People. — 
Windsor Castle. — Windsor Parks. — London Newspapers. — The Times. — 
The British Museum. — Bibliographical Curiosities. — Egyptian Galleries. — 
A Wealth of Antiquities. — Original Magna Charta. — Priceless Manu- 
scripts 186-211 

CHAPTER VIII. 

I roin London to Paris.— Grand Hotels. — The Arch of Triumph. — Paris by 
Gaslight. — Site of the Guillotine. — Improvements in Paris. — The Bastils. 
— The Old Guard. — The Louvre. — Gallery of Masterpieces. — Selice of Na- 
poleon I. — Palais Royal. — Jewelry. — French Funeral. — Pere La Chaise. — 
.Millions in Marble. — Tomb of Bonaparte. — Versailles. — Halls of the Cru- 



CONTENTS. Vll 

sadcs. — Gallery of the Empire. — Gallery of Battles. — Theatre In the Pal- 
ace. — Fountains at Versailles. — Notre Dame. — Sainte Chapelle. — The 
Madeleine. — The Pantheon. — Les Champs Ely sees. — Cafts Chantants. — " 
The Jardin Mabille. — The Luxembourg. — Palace of St. Cloud. — Shops in 
Paris. — Bargains 246-3C* 



CHAPTER IX. 

Uood by to Paris. — Church of St. Gudule.— Field of Waterloo. — Brussels 
Lace. — Antwerp. — The Cathedral Spire. — Dusseldorf. — Cologne Cathe- 
dral. — Riches of the Church. — Up the Rhine.— Bridge of Boats. — Cob- 
lentz and Ehrenbreitstein. — Stolzenfels. — Legendary Castles. — Bingen on 
the Rhine. — Roman Remains. — Mayence. — Wiesbaden. — Gambling Halls. 

— Frankfort-on-the-Main. — Heidelberg Castle. — The Great Tun. — The 
King's Seat. — Baden-Baden. — Sabbath Amusement. — Satan's Snare baited. 

— Among the Gamblers. — Scene at the Table. — Strasburg Cathedral. — 
Strasburg Clock. — Clock at Basle. — Swiss Railways. — Travelling in Swit- 
zerland. — Zurich and its Scenery 309-373 

CHAPTER X. 

The Righi.— Guides and Alpenstocks. — Climbing the Alps. — Night on the 
Mountain Top. — The Yodlyn. — Lucerne. — Wonderful Organ Playing. — A 
Sail on Lake Lucerne. — Scene of Tell's Archery. — The St. Gothard Pass, 

— The Devil's Bridge.— The Brunig Pass. — A Valley of Beauty. — Inter- 
lakun. — Staubbach Waterfall. — Glaciers and Avalanches. — An Illuminated 
Waterfall. — Berne. — The Freiburg Organ. — Lake Leman. — The Prison of 
Chi lion. — Geneva. — Swiss Washerwomen.— Glaciers by Moonlight. — Sun- 
rise on Mont Blanc. — Valley of Chamouny. — View from Fleg^re. — Climb- 
ing again. — Crossing the Sea of Ice. — The Mauvais Pass. — Under a Gla- 
cier. — The Tfcte Noir Pass. — Italian Post Drivers. — The Rhone Valley. — 
Simplon Pass. — Gorge of Gondo. — Fressinone Waterfall. — Domo d'Os- 
sola. — An Italian Inn. — Lake Maggiore. — Milan Cathedral. — A Wonderful 
Statue. — Death and Dross. — The La Scala Theatre. — Lake Como. — Italian 
Monks. — Madesimo Waterfall 376-450 



CHAPTER XI. 

The Splugen Pass. — The Via Mala. — Tamina Gorge. — Falls of Schaffhau- 
een. — Munich.— Galleries of Paintings. — Grecian Sculpture restored. — A 
Bronze Giant.— Hall of the Colossi. — The Palace. — Basilica of St. Boni- 
face. — Salzburg. — Aquarial Wonders. — Visiting Lilliput. — Vienna. — Judg- 
ing by Appearances. — Royal Regalia. — Cabinet of Minerals. — The Ambras 
Museum . .450-478 



TU1 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Superb Mausoleum. — The Strauss Band. — Summer Palace. — Imperial Gal- 
lery. — Vienna Leather Work. — Shops and Prices. — The Cave of Adelsberg. 
—Underground Wonders. — Nature's Imitation of Art 47&-48S 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Venice. — Gondolas and Gondoliers. — Shylock. — The Rialto. — The Giant's 
Staircase. — The Lion's Mouth. — Terrible Dungeons. — Square of St. Mark. — 

The Bronze Horses.— Church of St. Mark.— Titian's Monument Canova's 

Monument. — Cathedrals and Pictures. — Florence. — Art in the Streets.— 
The Ufflzi Gallery. — Old Masters in Battalions. — Hall of Niobe. — Cabinet 

of Gems Michael Angelo's House. — The Duomo.— The Campanile. — 

Church of Santa Croce. — Michael Angelo's Statuary. — Florentine Mosaics. 
— Medicean Chapel. — Pitti Palace. — Halls of the Gods. — The Cascine. — 
Powers, the Sculptor , 487 -63* 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Tower of Pisa. —The Duomo. — Galileo's Lamp — The Baptistery. — Campo 
Santo. — Over the Apennines. — Genoa. — Streets of Genoa. — Pallavicinl 
Gardens. — Water Jokes. — Turin to Susa. — Mt. Cenis Pass. — Paris again, 
—Down In the Sewers 531-548 



CHAPTER XV. 

Blc transit. — English Rudeness. — Wonders of London. — Looking towards 
Home. — Last Purchases. — English Conservatism. — Reunion of Tourists. 
— All aboard. — Home again 649-661 



OYER THE OCEAN. 



CHAPTER I. 



Do you remember, dear reader, when you were a young 
stor, and studied a geography with pictures in it, or a " First * 
or " Second " Book of History, and wondered, as you looked 
upon the wood-cuts in them, if you should ever see St. Paul's 
Cathedral, or Westminster Abbey, or London Bridge, or go 
to the Tower of London, and into the very room in which the 
poor little princes were smothered by the order of their cruel 
uncle Richard, by the two rude fellows in a sort of undress 
armor suit, as depicted in the Child's History of England, or 
should ever see the Paris you had heard your elders talk so 
much of, or those curious old Rhine castles, of which we read 
so many startling legends of robber knights, and fair ladies, 
and tournaments, and gnomes, and enchanters ? What a 
realm of enchantment to us, story-book readers, was beyond 
the great blue ocean ! and how we resolved, when we grew 
to be a man, we would travel all over the world, and see every 
thing, and buy ever so many curious things in the countries 
where they grew or were made. Even that compound which 
produced "the finest jet black ever beheld," was to us in 
vested with a soil; cf poetic interest in boyhood's day, for the 
very stone jug that we held in our hand had come from Lon- 
don, — " 97 High Holborn," — and there was the picture of 
the palatial-looking factory on the pink label. 
1 



2 GOING ABROAD. 

LONDON ! There was something sonorous in the sound, 
and something solid in the very appearance of the word when 
written. When we were a man, didn't we mean to go to 
London ! 

Years added to youth dissipated many of these air-built 
castles, and other barriers besides the watery plain intervene 
between the goal of one's wishes, and Europe looks further 
away than ever. " Going to Europe ! Everybody goes to 
Europe nowadays," says a friend. True, and in these days 
of steam it is not so much of an event as formerly ; indeed, 
one would judge so from many of his countrymen that he 
meets abroad, who make him blush to think how they mis- 
represent Americans. 

The Great Expositions at London and Paris drew from our 
shores every American who could by any manner of mean 3 or 
excuse leave business, and obtain funds sufficient to get over 
and back, if only for a six weeks' visit. The Exposition 
brought out to Paris and to Europe, among the swarm of 
Americans who went over, many such, and some who had 
scarcely visited beyond the confines of their native cities 
before crossing the Atlantic. These people, by their utter 
inexperience as travellers, and by their application of the pre- 
cept inculcated in their minds that money would answer for 
brains, was a substitute for experience, and the only passport 
that would be required anywhere and for anything, became a 
source of mortification to their countrymen, easy game for 
swindling landlords and sharp shopkeepers, and rendered all 
the great routes of travel more beset with extortions and 
annoyances than ever before. 

But about "going to Europe." When one decides to start 
on a pleasure trip to that country for the first time, bow many 
very simple things he wishes to know, that correspondents 
and people who write for the papers have never said anything 
about. After having once or twice gone over in a steamship, 
it never seems to occur to these writers tfiat anybody else will 
want to become acquainted with the little minutiae of informa- 
tion respecting life on board ship during the trip, and "which 



WHAT IT COSTS. 3 

mos\, people do not like to say they know nothing about ; and 
. novices, therefore, have to clumsily learn by experience, and 
sometimes at four times the usual cost. 

Speaking of cost, let me say that this is a matter upon 
which hardly any two tourists will agree. How much does it 
cost to go to Europe ? Of course the cost is varied by the style 
of living and the thoroughness with which one sees sights ; 
by thoroughness I mean, besides expenditure of time, the use 
of ext/'i shillings "pour boires" and the skilful dispensation 
of extra funds, which will gain admission to many a forbidden 
shrine, insure many an unexpected comfort, and shorten many 
a weary journey. 

There is one popular error which one quickly- becomes dis- 
abused of, and that is, that everything abroad is dirt cheap, 
and it costs a mere song to live. Good articles always bring 
good prices. Many may be cheaper than at home, it is true, 
but they are by no means thrown away, and good living in Paris 
cannot be had, as some suppose, for three francs a day. 

If one is going abroad for pleasure, and has a taste for 
travelling, let him first decide what countries he wishes to 
visit, the routes and time he will take, and then from ex- 
perienced tourists ascertain about what it would cost ; after 
having learned this, add twenty per cent, to that amount, and 
he will be safe. 

Safe in the knowledge that you have enough ; safe in being 
able to make many little purchases that you will never dream 
of till you reach Regent Street, the Boulevards, the " Piazza 
San Marco," the Florence mosaic stores, or the Naples coral 
shops. Safe in making little side excursions to noted places 
that you will find on your route, and safe from the annoying 
reflection that you might have done so much better, and seen 
so much more, if you had not limited the expenditure to that 
very amount which your friend said would take you through. 

These remarks of course apply only to those who feel that 
they can afford but a fixed sum for the journey, and who 
ought always to wait till tLey can allow a little margin to the 
fixed sum, the more completely to enjoy the trip. 



i HINTS FOR NEW TOURISTS. 

I have seen Americans in French restaurants actually cal 
sulating up the price of a dinner, and figuring out the price 
of exchange, to see if they should order a franc's worth 
more or less. We may judge how much such men's enjoy 
ment is abridged. 

On the other hand, the class that I refer to, who imagine 
that money will pass for everything, increase the cost of 
travel to all, by their paying without abatement the demands 
of landlords and shopkeepers. The latter class, on the con- 
tinent, are so accustomed, as a matter of course, to being 
"beaten down" in the price, that it has now come to be a 
saying among them, that he who pays what is at first de- 
manded must be a fool or an American. In Paris, during 
the Exposition, green Englishmen and freshly-arrived Ameri- 
cans were swindled without mercy. The jewelry shops of 
the Rue de la Paix, the Grand Hotel, the shops of the Palais 
Royal, and the very Boulevard cafes fleeced men unmercifully. 
The entrance of an American into a French store was always 
the occasion of adding from twenty to twenty-five per cent, 
to the regular price of the goods. It was a rich harvest to 
the cringing crew, who, with smirks, shrugs, bows, and par- 
donnez mot's in the oiliest tones, swindled and cheated with- 
out mercy, and then, over their half franc's worth of black 
coffee at the restaurant, or glass of absinthe, compared notes 
with each other, and boasted, not how much trade they had 
secured or business they had done, but how much beyond the 
legitimate price they had got from the foreign purchaser, 
whom they laughed at. 

All the guide-books and many tourists exclaim against 
baggage, and urge the travelling with a single small trunk, 
or, as they call it in England, portmanteau. This is very 
well for a bachelor, travelling entirely alone, and who expects 
to go into no company, and will save much time and expense 
at railway stations ; but there is some comfort in having ward- 
robe enough and some space for small purchases, even if a 
little extra has to be paid. It is the price of convenience in 
one respect, although the continual weighing of and charging 



LIFE ON BOAED SHIP. 

for baggage is annoying to an American, who is unused to 
that sort of thing; and one very curious circumstauce is dis- 
covered in this weighing, no two scales on the continent give 
the same weight of the same luggage. 

Passage tickets from America to Europe it is, of course, 
always best to secure some time in advance, and a previous 
visit to the steamer may aid the fresh tourist in getting a 
state-room near the centre of the ship, near the cabin stairs, 
and one having a dead-light, all of which are desirable 
things. 

Have some old clothes to wear on the voyage ; remember 
it is cold at sea even in summer ; and carry, besides your over- 
coat and warm under-clothing, some shawls and railway rugs, 
the latter to lie round on deck with when you are seasick. 

There is no cure for seasickness ; keep on deck, and take 
as much exercise as possible; hot drinks, and a hot water 
bottle at the feet are reliefs. 

People's appetites come to them, after seasickness, for the 
most unaccountable things, and as soon as the patient ' han- 
kers ' for anything, by all means let him get it, if it is to be 
had on board ; for it is a sure sign of returning vigor, and in 
nine cases out of ten, is the very thing that will bring the 
sufferer relief. I have known a delicate } cung lady, who had 
been unable to eat anything but gruel for three days, sud- 
denly have an intense longing for corned beef and cabbage, 
and, after eating heartily of it, attend her meals regularly 
the remainder of the voyage. Some make no effort to get 
well from port to port, and live in their state-rooms on the 
various little messes they imagine may relieve them, and 
which are promptly brought either by the stewardess or bed- 
room steward of the section of state-rooms they occupy. 

The tickets on the Cunard line express, or did express, 
that the amount received includes "stewards fees;" but any 
one who wants to be well served on the trip will find that a 
sovereign to the table steward, and one to the bedroom stew- 
ard, — the first paid the last day before reaching port, and the 
second by instalments of half to commence with, and ha'f just 



TELE STEWARDS. 



before leaving, — will have a marvellously good effect, and thai 
it is, in fact, an expected fee. If it is your first voyage, and 
you expect to be sick, speak to the state-room steward, who 
has charge of the room you occupy, or the stewardess, if you 
have a lady with you ; tell him you shall probably need his 
attention, and he must look out for you; hand him half a 
sovereign and your card, with the number of your room, and 
you will have occasion to experience most satisfactorily the 
value of British gold before the voyage is over. If a desirable 
seat at the table is required in the dining-saloon — that is, an 
outside or end seat, where one can get out and in easily, — 01 
at the table at which the captain sometimes presides, a simi- 
lar interview with the saloon steward, a day or two before 
sailing, may accomplish it. 

Besides these stewards, there are others, who are known as 
deck stewards, who wait upon seasick passengers', who He 
about the decks in various nooks, in pleasant weather, and 
who have their meals brought to them by these attentive 
fellows from the cabin table. It is one phase of seasickness 
that some of the sufferers get well enough to lie languidly 
about in the fresh, bracing air, and can eat certain viands they 
may fancy for the nonce, but upon entering the enclosed 
saloon, are at once, from the confined air or the more percep- 
tible motion of the ship, afflicted with a most irrepressible and 
disagreeable nausea. 

"Well, the ticket for Liverpool is hought, your letter of 
credit prepared, and you are all ready for your first trip across 
the water. People that you know, who have been often, ask, 
in a nonchalant style, what "boat" you are going "over" in; 
you thought it was a steamer, and the easy style with which 
they talk of running over for a few weeks, or should have 
gone this month, if they hadn't been so busy, or they shall 
probably see you in Vienna, or Rome, or St. Petersburg, causes 
you to think that this, to you, tremendous undertaking of a 
first voyage over the Atlantic is to be but an insignificant 
excursion, after all, and that the entire romance of the affair 
and the realizing of "your imagination is to be dissolved like 



"water, water everywhere." 1 

ime of youth's castles in the air. So it seems as you rile 
down to the steamer, get on board, pushing amid the crowds 
of passengers and leave-taking friends ; and not until a last, 
and perhaps, tearful leave-taking, and when the vessel fairly 
swings out into the stream, and you respond to the fluttering 
signal of dear ones on shore, till rapid receding renders face 
and form indistinguishable, do you realize that you are fairly 
launched on the great ocean, and friends and home are left 
behind, as they never have been before. 

One's first experience upon the great, awful Ocean is never 
to be forgotten. My esteem for that great navigator, Christo- 
pher Columbus, has risen one hundred per cent, since I have 
crossed it, to think of the amount of courage, strength of 
mind, and faith it must have required to sustain him in his 
venturesome voyage in the frail and imperfect crafts which 
those of his day must have been. 

Two days out, and the great broad sweep of the Atlantic 
makes its influence felt upon all who are in any degree sus- 
ceptible. To the landsman, the steamship seems to have a 
regular gigantic see-saw motion, very much like that of the 
toy ships that used to i - ise and fall on mimic waves, moved by 
clock-work, on clocks that used to be displayed in the store 
windows of jewellers and fancy dealers. Now the bows rise 
with a grand sweep, — now they sink again as the vessel 
plunges into an advancing wave, — up and down, up and 
down, and forging ahead to the never-ceasing, tremulous jar 
of the machinery. In the calmest weather there is always 
one vast swell, and when wind or storm prevails, it is both 
grand and terrible. 

The great, vast ocean is something so much beyond any- 
thing I ever imagined, — the same vast expanse of dark-blue 
rolling waves as far as the eye can reach, — day after day, 
lay after day, — the great ship a mere speck, an atom in the 
vast circle of water, — water everywhere. The very wind 
sounds differently than on land; a cheerful breeze is like the 
breath of a giant, and a playful wave will send a dozen hogs 
heads of water over the lofty bulwarks. 



8 LAND, HO ! 

But in a stiff breeze, when a great wave strikes like ci iron 
avalanche against the ship, she seems to pause and shudder, 
as it were, beneath the blow ; then, gathering strength from 
the unceasing throb of the mighty power within, urges her 
way bravely on, while far as the eye can reach, as the ship 
sinks in the watery valleys, you see the great black tossiny 
waves, all crested with spray and foam, like a huge squadron 
of white-plumed giant cavalry. The spray sometimes flies 
high over the smoke-stack, and a dash of saline drops, coming 
fiercely into the face, feels like a handful of pebbles. A look 
around on the vast expanse, and the ship which at the pier 
seemed so huge, so strong, so unyielding, becomes an atom in 
comparison, — is tossed, like a mere feather, upon old Ocean's 
bosom ; and one realizes how little is between him and eter 
nity. There seem to be no places that to my mind bring man 
so sensibly into the presence of Almighty God as in the midst 
of the ocean during a storm, or amid the grand and lofty peaks 
of the Alps ; all other feelings are swallowed up in the mute 
acknowledgment of God's majesty and man's insignificance. 

If ever twelve days seem long to a man, it is during his 
first voyage across the Atlantic; and the real beauty of green 
grass is best appreciated by seeing it on the shores of Queens- 
town as the steamer sails into Cork harbor. 

Land again ! How well we all are ! A sea voyage, — it is 
nothing. Every one who is going ashore here is in the bustle 
of preparation. 

We agree to meet A and party in London ; we will call on 
B in Paris, — yes, we shall come across C in Switzerland. 
How glib we are talking of the old country ! for here it is, — 
no three thousand miles of ocean to cross now. A clear, 
bright Sunday morning, and we are going ashore in the little 
tug which we can see fuming down the harbor to meet us. 

"We part with companions with a feeling of regret. Seated 
on the deck of the little tug, the steamer again looms up, 
huge and gigantic, and we wonder that the ocean could have 
so tossed her about. But the bell rings, the ropes are cast 
off, the tug steams away, our late companions give us threw 



EXAMINING LUGGAGE. 9 

patting cheers, and we respond as the distance rapidly widens 
between us. 

Custom-house officials examine your luggage on the tug. 
American tourists have but very little trouble, and the in- 
vestigation is slight ; cigars and fire-arms not forming a 
prominent feature in your luggage, but little, if any, incon- 
venience may be anticipated. 

This ordeal of the custom-house constitutes one of the 
most terrible bugbears of the inexperienced traveller. It is 
the common opinion that an inspection of your baggage means 
a general and reckless overhauling of the personal property 
in your trunks — a disclosure of the secrets of the toilet, per- 
haps of the meagreness of your wardrobe, and a laying of 
profane hands on things held especially sacred. Ladies natu- 
rally dread this experience, and gentlemen, too, who have 
been foolish enough to stow away some little articles that 
custom-house regulations have placed under the ban. But 
the examination is really a very trifling affair ; it is conducted 
courteously and rapidly, and the traveller laughs to himself 
about his unfounded apprehensions. 

The tug is at the wharf; the very earth has a pleasant 
smell ; let us get on terra firma. Now, then, a landsman 
finds out, after his first voyage, what "sea legs" on and sea 
legs off, that he has read of so much in books, mean. 

He cannot get used to the steadiness of the ground, or 
rather, get at once rid of the unsteadiness of the ship. I 
found myself reeling from side to side on the sidewalk, and 
on entering the Queen's Hotel, holding on to a desk with one 
hand, to steady myself, while I wrote with the other. The roll- 
ing motion of the ship, to which you have become accustomed,, 
is once more perceptible ; and I knew one friend, who did not 
have a sick day on board ship, who was taken landsick two 
hours after stepping on shore, and had as thorough a casting 
up of accounts for an hour as any of us experienced on the 
steamer at sea. The Cunard steamers generally arrive at, or 
used to arrive at, Queenstown on Sunday mornings, and all 
who land are eager to get breakfast ashore. We tried the 



10 SCENES ON SHORE. 

Queen's Hotel, where we got a very fair breakfast, ami were 
charged six or eight shillings for the privilege of the ladies 
sitting in a room till the meal was ready for us — the first, and 
1 think the only, positive swindle I experienced in Ireland. 
After breakfast the first ride on an English (or rather Irish) 
railway train took us to Cork. The road was through a 
lovely country, and, although it was the first of May, green 
with verdure as with us in June — no harsh New England 
east winds ; and one can easily see in this country how May- 
day came to be celebrated with May-queens, dances, and 
May-poles. 

To us, just landed from the close steamer, how grateful was 
the fragrance of the fresh earth, the newly-blossomed trees, and 
the hedges all alive with twittering sparrows ! The country 
roads were smooth, hard, and clear as a ball-room floor ; the 
greensward, fresh and bright, rolled up in luxuriant waves to 
the very foot of the great brown-trunked trees ; chapel bells 
were tolling, and we saw the Irish peasantry trudging along 
to church, for all the world as though they had just stepped 
out of the pictures in the story-books. There were the women 
with blue-gray cloaks, with hoods at the back, and broad white 
caps, men in short corduroys, brogues, bobtail coats, caubeens 
and shillalah ; then there was an occasional little tip-cart of 
the costermonger and his wife, drawn by a donkey; the jaunt- 
ing-car, with half a dozen merry occupants, all forming the 
moving figures in the rich landscape of living green in her- 
bage, and the soft brown of the half moss-covered stone 
walls, or the corrugated stems of the great trees. 

We were on shore again ; once more upon a footing that 
did not slide from beneath the very step, and the never-ending 
broad expanse of heaving blue was exchanged for the more 
grateful scene of pleasant fields and waving trees ; the suffer- 
ings of a first voyage had already begun to live in remem- 
brance only as a hideous nightmare. 

A good hotel at Cork is the Imperial Hotel ; the attend- 
ance prompt, the chamber linen fresh and clean, the viands 
well prepared. 



TUB EMERALD ISLE. 11 

The scenery around Cork is very beautiful, especially on 
the eastern side, on what is known as the upper and lower 
Glanmere roads, which command fine views. The principal 
promenade is a fine raised avenue, or walk, over a mile in 
length, extending through the meadows midway between two 
branches of the River Lee, and shaded by a double row of 
lofty and flourishing elms. 

Our first walk in Ireland was from the Imperial Hotel to 
the Mardyke. Fifteen minutes brought us to the River Lee ; 
and now, with the city proper behind us, did we enjoy the 
lovely scene spread out to view. 

In the month of May one realizes why Ireland is called the 
Emerald Isle — such lovely green turf, thick, luxurious, and 
velvety to the tread, and so lively a green ; fancy New Eng- 
land grass varnished and polished, and you have it. The 
shade trees were all in full leaf, the fruit trees in full flower ; 
sheep and lambs gamboling upon the greensward, birds piping 
in the hedges, and such hedges, and laburnums, and clamber- 
ing ivy, and hawthorn, the air perfumed with blossoms, the 
blue sky in the background pierced by the turrets of an old 
edifice surrounded by tall trees, round which wheeled circles 
of cawing rooks ; the little cottages we passed, half shrouded 
in beautiful clambering Irish ivy, that was peopled by the 
nests of the brisk little sparrows, filling the air with their twit- 
terings; the soft spring breeze, and the beautiful reach of 
landscape — all seemed a realization of some of those scenes 
that poets write of, and which we sometimes fancy owe their 
existence to the luxuriance of imagination 

Returning, we passed through another portion of the city, 
which gave us a somewhat different view; it was nearly a 
mile of Irish cabins. Of course one prominent feature was 
dirt, and we witnessed Pat in all his national glory. A newly- 
arrived Ameiican cannot help noticing the deference paid to 
caste and position ; we, who treat Irish servants and laborers 
so well as we do, are surprised to see how much better they 
treat their employers in Ireland, and how little kind treat- 
ment the working class receive from those immediately above 
them. 



12 PAT AT HOarE. 

The civil and deferential Pat who steps aside for a well- 
dressed couple to pass, and touches his hat, in Cork, is vastly 
different from the independent, voting Pat that elbows you off 
the sidewalk, or puffs his fragrant pipe into your very face in 
America. In Ireland he accepts a shilling with gratitude, 
and invocation of • blessings on the donor; in America be 
condescends to receive two dollars a day ! A fellow-passen- 
ger remarked that in the old country they were a race of 

Touch-hats, in the new one of Go to . I found them here 

obliging and civil, ready to earn an honest penny, and grate- 
ful for it, and much more inclined to " blarney " a little extra 
from the traveller than to swindle it out of him. 

I made an arrangement with a lively driver to take us to 
the celebrated Blarney Castle in a jaunting-car — a delightful 
vehicle to ride in of a pleasant spring day, as it was on that 
>f our excursion. The cars for these rides are hung on springs, 
are nicely cushioned, and the four passengers sit back to back, 
facing to the side; and there being no cover or top to the 
vehicle, there is every opportunity of seeing the passing 
landscape. 

No American who has been interested in the beautiful 
descriptions of English and Irish scenery by the British poets 
can realize their truthfulness until he looks upon it, the char- 
acteristics of the scenery, and the very climate, are so dif- 
ferent from our own. The ride to Blarney Castle is a delight- 
folly romantic one, of about six miles; the road, which is 
smooth, hard, and kept in excellent order, winds upon a side 
hill of the River Lee, which you see continually flashing in and 
out in its course through the valley below; every inch of 
ground appears to be beautifully cultivated. The road is 
lined with old brown stone walls, clad with ivy of every 
variety — dark-green, polished leaf, Irish ivy, small leaf, heart 
leaf, broad leaf, and lance leaf, such as we see cultivated in 
pots and green-houses at home, was here flourishing in wild 
luxuriance. 

The climate here is so moist that every rock and stone 
fence is clad with some kind of verdure ; the whole seems to 



BLARNEY CASTLE. 13 

satisfy the eye. The old trees are circled round and round in 
the ivy clasp ; the hedges are in their light-green livery of 
spring; there are long reaches of pretty rustic lanes, with 
fresh green turf underneath grand old trees, and there are 
whole banks of violets and primroses — yes, whole banks of 
such pretty, yellow primroses as we preserve singly in pots 
at home. 

There are grand entrances to avenues leading up to stately 
estates, pretty ivy-clad cottages, peasants' miserable, thatched 
cabins, great sweeps of green meadow, and the fields and 
woods are perfectly musical with singing birds, so unlike 
America: there are linnets, that pipe beautifully; finches, 
thrushes, and others, that fill the air with their warblings ; 
skylarks, that rise in regular circles high into the air, singing 
beautifully, till lost to vision ; rooks, that caw solemnly, and 
gather in conclaves on trees and roofs. Nature seems trying 
to cover the poverty and squalor that disfigures the land with 
a mantle of her own luxuriance and beauty. 

Blarney Castle is a good specimen of an old ruin of that 
description for the newly-arrived tourist to visit, as it will 
come up to his expectation in many respects, in appearance, 
as to what he imagined a ruined castle to be, from books and 
pictures. It is a fine old building, clad inside and out with 
ivy, situated near a river of the same name, and on a high 
limestone rock ; it was built in the year 1300. In the reign 
of Elizabeth it was the strongest fortress in Munster, and at 
different periods has withstood regular sieges; it was de- 
molished, all but the central tower, in the year 1646. 

The celebrated Blarney Stone is about two feet below the 
summit of the tower, and held in its place by iron stan- 
chions ; and as one is obliged to lie at full length, and stretch 
over the verge of the parapet, having a friend to hold upon 
your lower limbs, for fear an accidental slip or giddiness 
may send you a hundred feet below, it may be imagined that 
the act of kissing the Blarney Stone is not without its perils. 
However, that duty performed, and a charming view enjoyed 
of the rich undulating country from the summit, and inspeo 



14 DUBLIN. 

tion made of some of the odd little turret chambers of the 
tower, and loopholes for archery, we descended, gratified the 
old woman who acts as key-bearer by crossing her palm with 
silver, strolled amid the beautiful groves of Blarney for a 
brief period, and finally rattled off again in our jaunting-cars 
over the romantic road. 

The Shelborne House, Dublin, is a hotel after the American 
style, a good Fifth Avenue sort of affair, clean, and well kept, 
and opposite a beautiful park (Stephens Green). Americans 
will find this to be a house that will suit their tastes and 
desires as well, if not better, than any other in Dublin. Sack- 
ville Street, in Dublin, is said to be one of the finest streets in 
Europe. I cannot agree with the guide-books in this opinion, 
although, standing on Carlisle Bridge, and looking down this 
bioad avenue, with the Nelson Monument, one hundred and' 
ten feet in height, in the centre, and its stately stores on each 
side, it certainly has a very fine appearance. Here I first 
vi^ted shops on the other side of the water, and the very 
first thing that strikes an American is the promj)tness with 
which he is served, the civility with which he is treated, the 
immense assortment and vaiiety of goods, and the effort of 
the salesmen to do everything to accommodate the purchaser. 
They seem to say, by their actions, " We are put here to attend 
to buyers' wants ; to serve them, to wait upon them, to make 
the goods and the establishment attractive; to sell goods, 
and we want to sell goods." On the other hand, in our own 
country the style and manner of the clerks is too often that 
of " I'm just as good, and a little better, than you — buy, if 
you want, or leave — we don't care whether we sell or not — 
it's a condescension to inform you of our prices; don't expect 
any attention." 

The variety of goods in the foreign shops is marvellous to 
an American ; one pattern or color not suiting, dozens of others 
are shown, or anything will be made at a few hours' notice. 

Here in Dublin are the great Irish poplin manufactures; 
and in these days of high prices, hardly any American lady 
leaves Dublin without a dress pattern, at least, of this elegant 



SHOPPING FACILITIES. 15 

material, which can be obtained in the original packages of 
the " Original Jacobs " of the trade, Richard Atkinson, in Col- 
lege Green, whose front store is a gallery of medals and ap- 
pointments, as poplin manufacturer to members of royal 
families for years and years. The ladies of my party were 
crazy with delight over the exquisite hues, the splendid qual- 
ity, the low prices — forgetting, dear creatures, the difference 
of exchange, and the then existing premium on gold, and six- 
ty per cent, duty that had to be added to the rate before the 
goods were paid for in America. Notwithstanding the stock, 
the hue to match the pattern a lady had in her pocket was not 
to be had. 

" We can make you a dress, if you can wait, madam," said 
the polite shopman, " of exactly the same color as your sample." 

" How long will it take to make it ? " 

" We can deliver it to you in eight or ten days." 

" O, I shall be in London then," said the lady. 

" That makes no difference, madam. We will deliver it to 
you anywhere in London, carriage free." 

And so, indeed, it was delivered. The order was left, sent 
to the factory by the shopman, and at the appointed time 
delivered in London, the lady paying on delivery the same 
rate as charged for similar quality of goods at the store in 
Dublin, and having the enviable satisfaction of showing the 
double poplin that was " made expressly to her order " — one 
dress pattern — " in Dublin." 

I mention this transaction to show what pains are taken to 
suit the purchaser, and how any one can get what he wants 
abroad, if he has the means to pay. 

This is owing chiefly to the different way of doing business, 
and also to the sharper competition in the old countries. For 
instance, the Pacific Mills, of Lawrence, Mass., would never 
think of opening a retail store for the sale of their goods on 
Washington Street, Boston ; and if an English lady failed to 
find a piece of goods of the color that suited her, of manu- 
facturing sixteen or eighteen yards to her order, and them 
sending it, free of express charge, to New York. 



16 DUBLIN CASTLtt. 

The quantity and variety of goods on hand are overwhelm- 
ing ; the prices, in comparison with ours, so very low that 1 
wanted to buy a ship-load. Whole stores are devoted to spe 
eialities — the beautiful Irish linen in every variety, Irish bog- 
wood carving in every conceivable form, bracelets, rings, 
figures, necklaces, breast-pins, &c. I visited one large establish- 
ment, where every species of dry goods, fancy goods, haber- 
dashery, and, I think, everything except eatables, were sold. 
Three hundred and fifty salesmen were employed, the pro- 
prietors boarding and lodging a large number of them on the 
premises. 

The shops in Dublin are very fine, the prices lower than in 
London, and the attendance excellent. 

"But Dublin — are you going to describe Dublin?" 

Not much, dear reader. Describing cities would only be 
copying the guide-book, or doing what every newspaper cor- 
respondent thinks it necessary to do. Now, if I can think of 
a few unconsidered trifles, which correspondents do not write 
about, but which tourists, on their first visit, always wish in- 
formation about, I shall think it doing a service to present 
them in these sketches. 

The Nelson Monument, a Doric column of one hundred and 
ten feet high, upon which is a statue eleven feet high of the 
hero of the Nile, always attracts the attention of visitors. 
The great bridges over the Liffey, and the quays, are splendid 
pieces of workmanship, and worth inspection, and of course 
you will go to see Dublin Castle. 

This castle was originally built by order of King John, 
about the year 1215. But little of it remains now, however, 
except what is known as the Wardrobe Tower, all the pres- 
ent structure having been built since the seventeenth century. 
Passing in through the great castle court-yard, a ring at a side 
door brought a courteous English housekeeper, who showed 
us through the state apartments. Among the most note-wor- 
thy of these was the presence-chamber, in which is a richly- 
carved and ornamental throne, frescoed ceilings, richly-uphol- 
stered furniture, &c, the whole most strikingly reminding one 



st. Patrick's cathedral. 17 

of those scenes at the theatre, where the "duke and attend- 
ants," or the "king and courtiers," come on. It is here the 
lord lieutenant holds his receptions, and where individuals are 
" presented " to him as the representative of royalty. The 
great ball-room is magnificent. It is eighty-two feet long, and 
forty-one wide, and thirty-eight in height, the ceiling being 
decorated with beautiful paintings. One represents George 
III., supported by Liberty and Justice, another the Con 
version of the Irish by St. Patrick, and the third, a very spir- 
ited one, Henry II. receiving the Submission of the Native 
Irish Chiefs. Henry II. held his first court in Dublin in 
1172. 

The Chapel Royal, immediately adjoining, is a fine Gothic 
edifice, with a most beautiful interior, the ceiling elegantly 
carved, and a beautiful stained-glass window, with a represen- 
tation of Christ before Pilate, figures of the Evangelists, &c. 
Here, carved and displayed, are the coats-of-arms of the dif- 
ferent lord lieutenants from the year 1172 to the present time. 
The throne of the lord lieutenant in one gallery, and that for 
the archbishop opposite, are conspicuous. This edifice was 
completed in 1814, and cost forty-two thousand pounds. It 
was the first Church of England interior I had seen over the 
ocean, and its richness and beauty were impressive at the 
time, but were almost bleached from memory by the grander 
temples visited a few weeks after. The polite housekeeper, 
whom, in my inexperience, I felt almost ashamed to hand 
a shilling to, took it, nevertheless, very gratefully, and in a 
manner that proved that her pride was not at all wounded 
by the action. 

In obedience to the advice of an Emeralder, that we must 
not "lave Dublin widout seem' St. Patrick's Church," we 
walked down to that celebrated cathedral. The square which 
surrounds it is as much a curiosity in its way as the cathedral 
itself. The whole neighborhood seemed to consist of the 
dirtiest, quaintest tumble-down old houses in Dublin, and 
swarnied with women and children. 

Hundreds of these houses seemed to be devoted to the salo 
2 



18 CHEAP JOHNS PARADISE. 

01 old junk, sixth-hand clothing, and fourth-hand articles ol 
every description one could name or think of — old tin pots 
and kettles, old rope, hlacking-jugs, old bottles, old boots, 
shoes, and clothing in every style of dilapidation — till you 
could scarcely say where the article ended being sold as a 
coat, and became rags — iron hoops, old furniture, nails, old 
hats, bonnets, cracked and hall-broken crockery. It verily 
seemed as if this place was the rag fair and ash-heap of the 
whole civilized world. The contents of six American ash- 
barrels would have given any one of these Cheap John stores 
a stock that would have dazzled the neighborhood with its 
magnificence. 

You could go shopping here with two-pence. Costermon- 
gers' carts, with their donkeys attached, stood at the curb- 
stones, ragged and half-starved children played in the gutters, 
great coarse women stood lazily talking with each other, or 
were crouched over a heap of merchandise, smoking short 
pipes, and waiting or chaffering with purchasers. Little filthy 
shops on every hand dealt out Ireland's curse at two-pence a 
dram, and "Gin," "Choice Spirits Sold Here," "Whiskey," 
" Spirits," were signs that greeted the eye on their door- 
posts. The spring breeze was tainted with foul odors, and 
there was a busy clatter of tongues from the seething and 
crowded mass of humanity that surged round in every direc- 
tion. 

Upon the farther corner of the third side of the square, 
where the neighborhood was somewhat better, we discovered 
the residence of the sexton who had charge of the church — 
a strong Orangeman, bitterly opposed to the Romish church, 
and with a strong liking for America, increased by the fact of 
having a brother in the American Union army, who rose from 
sergeant to colonel in one of the western regiments. 

"Think o' that, sir! Ye might be as brave as Julyus 
Sayzer in the English army, and sorra a rise would ye get, 
except ye'd be sated on a powdher magazine whin it ex 
ploded." 

The legend is, that this church was originally built by St 



PHCENIX PARK. 19 

Patrick, and the sexton took me into a little old crypt at the 
end of one of the isles of the nave — all that remains of that 
portion of the church, which it is averred was bnilt A. D. 540 
This crypt was floored with curious old tiles, over a thousand 
years old, put down and the fragments matched together 
with great labor and expense, and the flooring worth more 
money than a covering of an " aven layer o' guineas " upon it, 

The old stone font, A. D. 1190, the old carved chest for vest- 
ments, and the curious stone coffins, relics of the old church, 
were interesting. Among the monuments in the church, 
Archbishop Whately's magnificently-carved marble sarcopha- 
gus, surmounted by his full-length effigy, was particularly 
noticeable ; Swift's monument, Stella's tablet, and the. econom- 
ical tablet put up in memory of Duke Schomberg by Swift. 

Here in St. Patrick's Cathedral are displayed the stalls, 
arms, and banners of the Knights of St. Patrick, the army 
" memorials " of the India and China British regiments, with 
the flags they carried from 1852 to 1857 in their campaigns. 
Upon the wall was suspended the cannon shot that killed 
Schomberg at the memorable battle of the Boyne in 1690, 
and the spurs that he wore at the time. Schomberg's re- 
mains are interred at Westminster Abbey. 

My first ride in an old country park was in the Phoenix 
Park, Dublin — a beautiful pleasure-ground of over eigh- 
teen hundred acres in extent. I imagined how laughable 
it must have seemed to the Prince of Wales, when, at the 
review he attended on Boston Common, he politely assented 
to the remark of a militia officer, that " this great area " (the 
Common parade ground) " was well adapted for displays of 
large bodies of troops," as I sat looking at the parade ground 
of this park, a clear, unbroken greensward of six times the 
size. 

Think of riding over drives or malls fifty feet wide, and 
from three to five miles in length, lined with gas-lights to 
illuminate it at night, herds of hundreds of deer sporting on 
the open sward, or under the great, sturdy trees, which are 
grouped in twos, threes, or clusters, for landscape effect, ano 



20 ACKOSS THE IRISH SEa 

the turf beneath them thick, green, and luxuriant; and then, 
again, there are rustic, country-like roads, shady dells, and 
rustic paths in the beautiful park ; a great monument erected 
to Wellington by his countrymen at a cost of one hundred 
thousand pounds, will attract attention, and so at ill the 
numerous fasliionable turnouts that roll over the "well-kejit 
roads evevj* pleasant spring afternoon. 

From Dublin to Kingston is a pleasant little ride by rail, 
Kingston is on St. George's Channel, or the lower part of the 
Irish Sea, and directly opposite Holyhead, Wales. At 
Kingston we took steamer for the passage across. The 
steamers of this line carry the "royal mail, are built for 
strength and speed, and are splendid boats, of immense 
power, said to be the strongest and swiftest in Great Britain, 
and run at the rate of sixteen miles an hour. Fortunately, 
the passage was comparatively a smooth one, and we disem- 
barked in good condition upon the opposite shore, where we 
took train for Chester. An English railway carriage — its 
form is familiar to all from frequent description ; but think 
of the annoyance of having to look after your luggage, to see 
it safely bestowed on the top of the car, or in a luggage van, 
and to be obliged to look out that it is not removed by mis- 
take at any of the great stations you do not stop at, or that 
it is removed when you do stop. 

A few words on railway travelling in England : it differs 
from ours essentially. First, the cars on English roads are 
not so convenient, comfortable, or even so private as the 
American car. In the English first-class carriage, four per- 
sons must sit facing four persons; consequently four must 
perforce ride backwards, and the four are placed so as to 
stare directly at their opposite neighbors, — sometimes un 
pleasant, if all are not acquainted, especially at lunch time, 
&c. Then, in the English carriage, four persons only of the 
eight can get a fair view of the scenery, and two of these are 
riding backwards. These four "govern" the windows, and 
lower or close at their pleasure. I have been nearly emoth 
ered, as well as thoroughly chilled, by happening to have 



SAILK0AD TRAVELLING IN ENGLAND. 2l 

people of adverse temperaments get the window seats, till I 
learned how to travel by rail in England, of which, hints anon. 

There are no means of heating the English railway car- 
riage, and they are not tightly joined, especially the second- 
class ones. Hence the "railway rugs," &c, one hears so 
much about. But then, it must be confessed, the danger of 
the American stove renders it a rather unpopular affair. The 
second-class car is a plain, substantial carriage, and the larger 
portion of the passengers travel in it. The first-class car is 
more luxurious, upholstered more plentifully, supplied with 
racks for light baggage, and curtains at the windows. The 
English have not even reached the improvement of the slid- 
ing blind, which we have in America, so useful in excluding 
the sun's rays and admitting the air, the substitute being a 
flapping silk curtain. The second-class car has no curtain or 
shade to the window whatever. The absence of the signal 
rope is noticeable, and no man nowadays will remain in an 
English railway carriage, if one or two other men come in 
that he does not know. Is it not singular that so simple an 
arrangement as the signal rope to the engine driver should 
not have been applied, after all the murders, and assaults, 
and casualties, that have occurred on English railway trains, 
and pi-oved its necessity ? 

Not at all. It is an American invention — a novelty. An 
Englishman does not believe in novelties, in innovations, or 
in American inventions. After he has tried every other 
thing he can think of as a substitute, and finds he can get 
nothing so simple and effectual, he will adopt it ; and then it 
will be claimed as an English invention — invented by an 
Englishman ; just as they claim the invention of the revolver, 
steamboat, and I don't know but the sewing-machine. 

The English locomotives have no protection upon them 
for the engine-driver and fireman. These men are exposed, 
without shelter, and must have a rough time of it in bad 
weather. The " guard," who occupies the place of the Amer- 
ican conductor, but by no means fills it, is always recognizable 
by his unifoi-m ; and at the stations, the numerous porters 



22 GUARD VS. CONDUCTOR. 

which it is necessary for the company to employ to handle 
baggage, owing to the absence of the check system, are also 
in uniform. These men are invariably civil, ready to serve, 
and understand their position and duties thoroughly. 

On some of the English railroads that I travelled o\»er, it 
seemed as though the only duty the company thought they 
had to perform, was to simply cany you over their road ; and 
the ignorance of some of the under employes was positively 
amazing. Seated in the carriage, you might ride twenty 
miles past the station at which you wished to stop without 
knowing it, if you chanced to be on the off side. 

There was no conductor to pass and repass through the 
train, to look out that you debarked at the proper station ; 
no list of towns on the back of your railroad check ; no shout 
of "Passengers for Chester! Chester!" when the train 
stopped; and the guard knew nothing of any other train 
except his own, or any other distance over the road, or of 
how to connect with any other train. 

The passenger is left to himself, and is never told by the 

guard to " change cars here for ." That, you have to 

know yourself, and look out and have the railway porter get 
your luggage (not baggage) off, or it will be carried on, as 
they have no check system — another American affair, which 
it won't do to adopt too readily. 

Luggage is weighed, and, beyond a certain amount, charged 
for ; but any portmanteau one can get under the seat is free ; 
and it is astonishing what big valises some men carry. And in 
the absence of the check system, this is, of course, the safest way. 

Comparatively little luggage is lost or stolen. One reason 
why it is not stolen is, that there is a law here which pun° 
ishes thieves, and does not allow them liberty for a stipulated 
sum, known as bail in America. 

The price in the first-class carriage, on the fast or express 
trains, is about a third higher than the second. A ihird 
class is still cheaper. The parliamentary or slow trains have 
cheaper rates than the express. 

The division of "classes" is, in many respects, an excellent 



U A WOKD TO THE WISE," ETC. 23 

afra.ngeni.ent. It affords to him who desires better accommo- 
dations, and has the means to pay for them, the opportunity 
of enjoying them; and it does not force the poor man, the 
laborer or emigrant, to ride in a richly upholstered carriage, 
where he feels he is out of place, when he would prefer to 
save his money, and have less gilding and upholstery. 

One very soon finds, in England, the deference paid to 
class and to wealth, and nowhere sooner than on the railway 
train. It is presumed, on the expensive routes, that those 
riding in first-class carriages are " first-class " people, and the 
guard's manner to the passengers in the different carriages is 
an index of English education in this matter. As he appears 
at the window of the first-class carriage, he politely touches 
his hat : — 

" All are for London in this compartment ? Thank you." 

To the second-class : " Tickets, please." 

To the third-class : " Now, then, tickets. Look alive here, 
will you ? " 

The first-class passenger finds that his wants are better 
attended to, his questions answered deferentially; he is 
allowed to take almost any amount of small luggage into the 
car with him, much of which would be excluded from the 
second-class, if an attempt were made to carry it in. And O, 
the potency of the English shilling ! 

Each car seats eight; but we will suppose that there are a 
party of four travelling together, and desire no more passen- 
gers in the compartments. Call the guard to the window, 
put your hand in your pocket, looking him in the eye signifi- 
cantly. He will carelessly drop his own hand within the 
window opening inside the car. You drop a shilling in the 
hand. " This car is occupied." 

" Quite so, sir." 

Touching his hat, he locks the car door, and when other 
people come trying the door, he is conveniently out of the 
way, or informs the applicant, " Third carriage forward for 
Lor. don, sir," and by a dozen ingenious subterfuges keeps 
yoa free from strangers, so much that you betray yourself to 



24 RAILROAD STATIONS. 

him as an American by giving him another shilling at yow 
journey's end; and, although smoking "is strictly forbidden 
in first-class carriages," a party of three or four smokers, by 
the judicious use of a couple of shillings, may have one all 
to themselves for that purpose. 

The railway stations in England are very fine, and much 
superior to those in America, although we are improving 
ours, especially in the great cities. In the great English 
cities and towns, the stations are vast iron, glass-roofed struc- 
tures, kept in excellent order. The waiting-rooms are divided 
into first, second, and third class, and the door oj)ening upon 
the platform is not opened until a certain time before the 
train starts. Porters in uniform take the luggage to the 
train, and the " guard " who acts as conductor knows nothing 
about any railway train connections or line beyond his own. 
The passenger is supposed to know all that sort of thing, and 
he who " wants to know, you know," is at once recognized as 
an American. 

The country stations are beautiful little rustic affairs, with 
gardens of roses and sweetbrier, honeysuckles and flowering 
shrubs about them. Some have the name of the station 
sown in dwarf flowers upon the bank outside, presenting a 
very pretty appearance in spring and summer, and contrast- 
ing very agreeably with the rude shanties we find in Amer- 
ica, with their tobacco-stained floors within, and bare expanse 
of yellow sand outside. 

We rattled through Wales in an express train, a romantic 
view of wild Welsh mountains on one side, and the beating 
and heaving ocean dashing up on the other, sometimes 
almost to the very railway track. We ran through great 
tunnels, miles in length, whirled at the rate of fifty miles an 
hour through the great slate-quanying district and Bangor, 
past the magnificent suspension bridge over Menai Straits, 
by the romantic old castle of Conway, with its shattered bat- 
tlements and turrets looking down at the sea, which dashes 
up its foam-crested waves ceaselessly at its rocky base, the 
old red sandstone walls worn and corroded with time; on, 



AN OLit ENGLISH CITY. 25 

past thatch u\ hats, rustic cottages, and green landscape, till 
the panting train halted at the great modern railway station 
in that oldest of English cities, Chester. 

This station is one of the longest in England, being ten 
hundred and fifty feet long, and having wings, a land of pro- 
jecting arcades, with iron roofs, to shelter vehicles waiting 
for trains. From this magnificent modern-built station a cab 
carried us, in a few minutes, on our route to the hotel (Grosve- 
nor House), into an old street that looked as though wo 
had got into a set scene at the theatre, representing a street 
in "Windsor for FalstafT and the Merry Wives to appear in ; 
houses built in 1500, or years before, the street or sidewalks 
passing right under some of them; quaint old oddities of 
architecture, with curious inscriptions in abbreviated old Eng- 
lish on their carved cross-beams, and their gables sticking out 
in every direction; curious little windows with diamond- 
shaped panes set in lead ; and houses looking as though the 
hand of time had squeezed them together, or extracted the 
juice from them like sucked oranges, and left only the dried 
rind, half shrunken from its original shape, remaining. 

The great curiosity, however, in Chester, is the Chester 
Cathedral, and the old walls that encompass the city. I 
never realized the force of the expression " the corroding 
tooth of time " till I saw this magnificent old cathedral : por- 
tions of it which were once sharply sculptured in various 
designs are now worn almost smooth by age, the old red 
sandstone looking as though time had sand-papered it with 
gritty hail and honeycombed its stones with melting rains ; but 
the whole was surrounded with a mellow, softened beauty of 
groined arches, beautiful curves, dreamy old cloisters, and 
quaint carving, that invested even the ruined portion with a 
hallowed beauty. The stained-glass windows, both old and 
modern, are glorious colored wonders ; the chapel where the 
services are now held is the same where, a thousand years 
ago, dreamy old monks told their beads ; and there are their 
stalls or seats, so contrived as to afford but partial rest, so 
that if the sitter slumbered they fell forward with his weight, 
and threw him to the floor. 



26 CHESTER CATHEDRAL. 

The antique wood carving upon the seats and pews here, 
now blackened and hardened almost to ebony in appearance, 
is very fine, excellently executed, and well preserved. High 
above ran around the nuns' walk, with occasional openings, 
whence the meek-eyed sisterhood could hear service below 
without being seen themselves as they came from their quiet 
cloisters near at hand, a quadrangle of one hundred and ten 
feet square, in which were four covered walks looking upon 
the enclosed garden, now a neglected greensward, where 
several forgotten old abbots slumber peacefully beneath great 
stone slabs with obliterated inscriptions. 

The curious grope into some of the old cells, and most of 
vis go down under the building in the crypt, where the mas- 
sive Gothic pillars, that support the pile, still in perfect preser. 
vation, biing vividly to mind those canvas representations of 
prison scenes one sees upon the stage. 

Inside the cathedral were numerous very old monuments 
and mementos of the past ; among others an immense tap- 
estry wrought by nuns hundreds of years ago, and represent- 
ing Elymas struck with blindness. The enormous size of 
these cathedrals strikes the "fresh" American tourist with 
wonder. Fancy churches five times as large as ours, and the 
height inside from sixty to one hundred feet from the stone 
floor to the arched ceiling, lighted with glorious great win- 
dows of stained glass, upon which the stories of the Bible 
are told in colored pictures, and south, east, west, transepts, 
nave, and choir, crowded with relics of the past, U;at you have 
read of in the story-books of youth, and again upon the pages 
of history in maturer years; artistic sculptures, old monu- 
ments, statues, carvings, and curious remains. 

In the chapter-house connected with the cathedral, we 
were shown the colors carried by the Cheshire regiment on 
the field of Waterloo ; and it was interest ing for me to grasp 
with my sacrilegious American hand one of the colors borne 
by a British regiment in America during the war of the 
Revolution. 

We also visited the ecclesiastical court-room in which the 



THE CITY WALLS. 27 

Bishop of CLeste r, in 1554, tried a Protestant minister, George 
Marsh, and sentenced him to be burned for heresy. The 
seats of the judges and chair of the accused are still preserved 
and shown to the visitor, who generally desires to sit in the 
martyr's seat, and finds it, even for a few minutes, an un- 
comfortable one. 

The Chester Cathedral is said to have been founded in the 
year 200, and was used as a place of safety against the Danes 
in 800. It was well kept, and ruled by abbots, and its history 
well preserved from the time of King William Rufus, who 
was killed in New Forest, 1093, down to 1541. 

The old walls of Chester are the great attraction of the 
city ; in fact, Chester is the only city in Great Britain that 
has preserved its old walls entire: they enclose the city 
proper, and are about two miles in circumference, affording 
a delightful promenade arfd prospect of the surrounding coun- 
try. The walls are squarely built of a soft red freestone, 
something like that used for our " brown stone front " houses, 
though apparently not so hard a material, and vary from 
twelve to forty feet in height. A fresh tourist from a new 
country like our own begins to feel he is communing with 
the past, as he walks over these old walls, erected A. D. 61, 
and finds their chronology to read thus : — 

A. D. 

61 — Walls built by Romans. 

73 — Marin s, King of the Britons, extended the walls. 
607 — The Britons defeated under the walls. 
907 — The walls rebuilt by daughter of Alfred the Great- 
1224 — An assessment for repairing the wallsi 
1399 — Henry of Lancaster mustered his troops under these walls. 
1645 — The Parliamentary forces made a breach in these walls. 

So that it will be seen they have looked down upon some 
of the most eventful scenes of history; and as we strolled 
along, tliinking what a feeble obstacle they would prove 
against the formidable engines of modern warfare, we came 
to a tower called the Phoenix Tower; and an inscription upon 



28 FROM CHESTER TO LIVERPOOL. 

it informs the visitor that upon this tower King Charles I. 
stood in 1G45, and witnessed the defeat of his army on 
Rowton Moor, four miles off, then a barren field, but now a 
smiling plain of fields and cottages, looking very unlike a 
barren moor, or the scene of a sanguinary combat. In tills 
old tower a curious, antiquary sort of old fellow keeps a 
motley collection of curiosities, among which were Havelock's 
spurs, buckles of Queen Mary's time, bean from tree planted 
by Washington (!), and a great, staring, ske-of-life wood-cut 
of Abraham Lincoln, besides coins, relics, &c, that were 
labelled to interest, but whose genuineness might not stand 
the test of too close an investigation. 



CHAPTER II. 

It is a comparatively short ride from Chester to Liverpool, 
and of course we went to the Adelphi Hotel, so frequently heard 
mentioned our side of the water; and if ever an American 
desires a specimen of the tenacity with which the English 
cling to old fashions, their lack of what we style enterprise, 
let him examine this comfortable, curious, well kept, incon- 
venient old house, or rather collection of old residences rolled 
into a hotel, and reminding him of some of the old-fashioned 
hotels of thirty years ago at the lower part of the city of 
New York. 

Upon the first day of my arrival I was inexperienced 
enough to come down with my wife to the "ladies' coffee- 
room" as it is called, before ordering breakfast. Let it be 
kept in mind that English hotels generally have no public 
dining and tea rooms, as in America, where a gentleman with 
ladies can take their meals ; that solemn performance is done 
by Englishmen in the strictest privacy, except they are travel- 
Hug alone, when they take their solitary table in "the coffee 



a LESSON OP PATIENCE. 29 

room," and look glum and repellent upon the scene around 
at intervals of the different courses of their well-served soli- 
tary dinner. Public dining-rooms, however, are gradually 
coming into vogue at English hotels, and at the Star and 
Garter, Richmond, I dined in one nearly as large as that of 
the St Nicholas, Fifth Avenue, or Parker House, crammed 
with chattering guests and busy waiters ; but that was of a 
pleasant Sunday, in the height of the season, and the price I 
found, on settling the bill, fully up to the American standard. 

But at the Adelphi I came down in the innocence of my 
heart, expecting to order a breakfast, and have it served with 
the American promptitude. 

Alas ! I had something to learn of the English manner of 
doing things. Here was the Adelphi always full to overflow- 
ing with new arrivals from America and new arrivals for 
America, and here was its ladies' coffee-room, a small square 
parlor with five small ^tables, capable of accommodating, with 
close packing, fifteen people, and the whole room served by 
one waiter. The room was full on my arrival ; but fortunately, 
while I was hesitating what course to pursue, a lady and 
gentleman who had just finished breakfast arose, and we sat 
down at the table they had vacated. 

In the course often minutes the waiter cleared the table and 
spread a fresh cloth. " 'Ave you hordered breakfast, sir ? " 

" No ! Bring me mutton chops, coffee, and boiled eggs, and 
hot biscuit, for two." 

" Beg pardon, sir; chops, heggs, coffee — a — biscuits, aren't 
any biscuits, sir ; send out and get some, sir." 

Biscuits. I reflected ; these benighted Britons don't under- 
stand what an American hot biscuit is. " No biscuits ! Well, 
muffins, then." 

" Muffins, sir ; yes, sir ; " and he hastened away. 

W e waited five, ten, fifteen minutes ; no breakfast. One 
party at another table, who were waiting when we came in, 
were served with their breakfast; in five minutes more a 
fresh plate of muffins to another party; five more, and the 
waiter came to our table, put on two silver forks, a salt-cellar. 



30 AN ENGLISH BREAKFAST. 

and castor, and smoothed out some invisible wrinkles in the 
table linen, and went away; five minutes more, and he was 
hustling among some knives at a sideboard. 

"Waiter!" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Are you going to bring my breakfast ? " 

"Yes, sir; d'reckly, sir; chops most ready, sir." 

Chops, always call 'em chops ; never call for a mutton chop 
in England ; the word is superfluous, and stamps you as an 
un travelled, inexi)erienced Yankee at once. 

Five minutes more, and he appeared, bearing a tray with 
the breakfast, just thirty-five minutes after the order had been 
given for it. How long would a hotel in America be patron- 
ized that made its guest wait one half that time for four times 
as elaborate a repast ? 

I soon learned how to manage this matter better, especially 
as there are no printed bills of fare, and the list comprises a 
very few standard dishes. My plan was, on first rising in 
the morning, to write my order for breakfast on a scrap of 
paper, ring for the chambermaid, hand it to her with instruc- 
tions to have that breakfast ready in the ladies' coffee-room 
directly. 

The English " directly " signifies the " right away " of Amer- 
ica, or, more correctly, immediately. 

In half an hour afterwards, when we descended, the waiter, 
whose memory had been strengthened by the judicious in- 
vestment of a shilling, had the cloth laid, and met us with, 
" Breakfast d'reckly, sir ; Number 19 ; yes, sir." 

The breakfast, when it did come, was perfect ; the coffee or 
tea excellent, pure and unadulterated; the chops, — not those 
American affairs with one bite of meat the size of half a dol- 
lar, tough and ill cooked, but large as the palm of one's hand, 
— cooked as they can only be cooked in England; the muffins 
hot and smoking ; the eggs fresh and excellent ; so that the 
old-fashioned framed engravings, mahogany furniture, cramped 
quarters, and style of the past were forgotten in the appeal to 
that god of the Englishman, the stom/ich. 



ENGLISH VS. AMERICAN COOKING. '61 

All the viands at the Adelphi were of the best description, 
and admirably cooked, but the bill of fare was limited to veiy 
few articles. A sight of one of the printed bills of our great 
American hotels would Lave driven the waiter crazy, whilt 
the utter disregard of time, or rather of the value of time, h 
an English hotel, is the first thing that strikes a new ly-arrived 
American and stirs up his irritability. 

Eating, with a Briton, is a very serious and solemn thing, 
and the dinner one of the most important social -ceremonies 
in the kingdom. You cannot, if you will, in England, pre- 
cipitate yourself into dyspepsia with the ease that it is pos- 
sible to do it in America. First, because people will not be 
hurried into eating at railroad speed, and next, because there 
is better cooking of standard dishes and fewer knickknacks 
at the hotel tables than in America. 

That inevitable pork fat that flavors everything after one 
gets west of Buffalo, and a little off the line of travel that 
leads you through the great hotels in the great cities in 
America, — that saleratus bread, hayey tea, clammy pie-crust, 
and great whity-gray, soury baker's bread, — that we, who 
have travelled at home, are so familiar with, give place in 
England to articles prepared in a very different style. I have 
often thought, when travelling at the West, that it was a sin 
for people in the midst of such luxurious plenty to abuse it 
so abominably in preparing it for the table. 

With all the prejudices of a raw tourist upon his first visit, 1 
must acknowledge that during two months' constant travel in 
England and Scotland, I never sat down to a single ill-cooked 
or badly-served meal; and I have tested humble roadside 
inns in the country, as well as the more pretentious hotels of 
the great cities. The bread of all kinds is close-grained, sweet, 
well baked, and toothsome; the chops served sometimes on 
napkins in hot dishes; muffins hot, with fresh, sweet butter; 
butter served in thin pats, ornamented with parsley; broiled 
chicken garnished with thin slices of delicately broiled ham, 
so thai and free from grease as not to make a spot upon the 
pure damask table linen; the dropped eggs upon crisp toast, 



32 LIVERPOOL DOCKS. 

are a triumph of gastronomic art, and I need say no woi d in 
praise of English roast beef. 

But there is one dish which can be had in perfection only 
in Ameiica, and . that is an American beefsteak. It is almost 
impossible to get a decent beefsteak in England, out of the 
city of London, and there only at a few well-known restau- 
rants celebrated for that specialty. They would think it 
almost sacrilege to cut beef into what is known in America 
as sirloin or tenderloin steaks ; and, with the few exceptions 
above named, the art of broiling a steak in the American 
style, and serving it with the thin, dry-fried potatoes, is un- 
known. But a truce to the department of cuisine. 

The one thing Ave all have most heard of in Liverpool is 
its great docks, which are the grand and characteristic fea- 
ture, indicating forcibly its great commercial activity and 
enterprise by their magnitude, solidity, and extent. These 
immense receptacles of merchandise extend for six miles along 
the river, and have an enclosure of two hundred and fifty-four 
acres, a quay space of over eighteen miles ; then upon the 
other side of the river are the Birkenhead docks, enclosing 
one hundred and. sixty-seven acres, and having a quay space 
of over nine miles,— thus giving to Liverpool four hundred and 
twenty-one acres of enclosed docks, and twenty-seven miles 
of quay space. 

The enormous heaps of every species of merchandise seen 
at these places, great ships from every part of the world, the 
perfect forest of masts, immense storehouses, cargoes that in 
the general mass seem but mounds of tea-chests, hillocks of 
coffee-bags, heaps of grain, piles of lumber, or fragments of 
machinery in these great areas, but which in reality would 
provision an army, build a navy, and outfit a manufacturing 
city, give one the impression that Liverpool is the entrepot 
of the world, and some idea of the enormous commerce of 
Great Britain. 

Each dock has a chief, or master, who directs the position 
of all ships, and superintends the flood-gates at the docking 
and undocking of vessels ; and strict regulations are enforced 



SPLENDID ORNITHOLOGICAL DISPLAY. 33 

tor tlit! prevention of fire and the preservation of property. 
The sea walls in front of some of these docks are magnificent 
specimens of masonry, and each dock is designated by a name ; 
our American ships, I believe, favor that known as Waterloo 
Dock. All the docks are surrounded by huge bonding ware- 
houses and merchandise sheds. 

The Free Museum, which we visited in Liverpool, contains 
the largest and finest collection of ornithological specimens in 
the world. It was indeed superb, and I never saw such splen- 
did taxidermical skill as was displayed in the mounting and 
arranging of this vast collection of thousands and thousands 
of birds, of every species (it seemed), from every country in 
the known world. 

For instance, there was every species of eagle known to 
exist, — gray, white, bald, harpy, &c, — poised, at rest, in 
flight, and in various positions, as in life ; every species of owl, 

— the gigantic, judge-like fellow, horned, snowy, gray, black, 
white, and dwarf; every falcon, — a magnificent set of speci- 
mens of this kind, as there was also of the crow family, which 
were represented not only by elegant black specimens, but by 
light-blue, and even white ones ; every species of sea bird, from 
the gigantic albatross to the Mother Cary's chicken; rare 
and curious birds ; great cassowaries ; the biggest ostrich I 
ever saw, — he could have carried a full-grown African upon 
his back with ease ; great emus ; a skeleton of the now ex- 
tinct dodo ; a collection of every species of pheasant, including 
specimens of the Himmalayan pheasant, the most gorgeous 
bird in the whole collection, whose plumage actually glistened 
and sparkled with glorious tints, like tinsel or precious stones 

— a gorgeous combination of colors. Over one hundred differ- 
ent varieties of humming-birds were displayed, and the same 
of parrots, wh o were in green, blue, yellow, white, pink, and 
every uniform of feather that could be imagined; magnificent 
lyre-birds, with tall, erected tail, in exact form of Apollo's 
fabled lyre. 

Great condors from South America; a brilliant array of 
every species of birds of paradise ; a whole army of toucans ; 
3 



34 ST. geokge's hall. 

a brilliant array of flamingoes and all the vulture tribe; in 
fact, every kind of a bird you had ever heard, seen pictures or 
read of, and very many you never had heard of, were pre- 
sented in this most wonderful collection ; and one pleasing 
feature besides the astonishing life-like positions they were 
placed in, was the admirable neatness and order of the whole ; 
n6t a stain marred the clear plate glass of the great cases, not 
a speck of dust could be seen in or about them; and upon the 
pedestal of each specimen Avas pasted a label, in good plain 
English characters, giving the English name of it, the country 
it came from, and, in many instances, its habits, &c, so much 
better than the presumption acted upon in some museums, 
that all the visitors are scientific Latin scholars. 

Besides this collection in the Museum, was one of minerals 
and corals, and another of preserved specimens of natural 
history. In this last we saw the entire skeleton of a large 
humpback whale, an entire skeleton of the gigantic Irish elk 
(species extinct) discovered in an Irish bog, a two-horned 
rhinoceros's head as big as a common hogshead, an enormous 
and splendidly-mounted specimen of the gorilla, larger than 
any, I think, that Du Chaillu exhibited in America, and a vast 
number of other interesting curiosities I have not space to 
enumerate, the whole of which was open free to the public, 
for pleasure or scientific study. 

St. George's Hall, Liverpool, occupies a commanding posi- 
tion, and presents a fine architectural appearance ; the eastern 
side of it is four hundred and twenty feet long, and has fifteen 
tlegant Corinthian columns, each forty-five feet in height. 
Within the portico are some fine specimens of sculpture ; the 
great saloon is one hundred and sixty-seven feet long by seven- 
ty-seven feet high, and, it may be interesting to Bostonians to 
know, contains the great organ of Liverpool, which is not so 
fine a one as the Boston one. The hall is used for public 
meetings, musical festivals, &c, — very much for the same pur- 
poses as Boston Music Hall. In the immediate vicinity of St. 
George's Hall are the famous Liverpool lions, colossal stone 
monsters, the equestrian statue of Prince Albert, and othei 
objects of interest. 



POVERTY AND SUFFERING. 35 

It was in Liverpool that I first saw that evidence tf reai, 
terribly suffering poverty that we read so much of as prevail- 
ing in the streets of some of the great cities of England. I 
don't know but as squalid misery might be found in New 
York city ; but there need be but very little of suffering by any 
one in America who has health and strength sufficient to do a 
day's work. In Liverpool I saw groups of poor creatures in 
the street, with staiwation written in their countenances ; and 
one evening, having occasion to go to the telegraph office 
from the hotel, I found that the streets absolutely swarmed 
with women, who were actually annoying to the stranger by 
their persistent importunities. Upon one occasion, being 
awakened by the sound of voices at one o'clock at night, I 
looked across the square from my window, and there, opposite 
an illuminated gin-shop, stood a group of three poor children, 
droning through a song, in hopes of extracting a penny or 
two from those in or about it ; the oldest of the three could 
not have been a dozen years old, and the youngest a little 
ragged girl of six. 

There are people that one meets here whose appearance is 
an anguish to the aching heart. We saw a poor woman, in 
a sleazy calico dress, with a colorless, wan face, walking wearily 
up an ascent in one of the streets, one afternoon, looking as 
if hope were dead within her heart ; and thinking it a case of 
need, my friend thrust a half crown into her hand, saying, 
" Here ! I think you need that." The poor creature looked at 
him for a moment, and, without saying a word, burst into a 
flood of tears. My experience with a little youngster of six, 
whose whole clothing was a sort of tow shirt, and who per- 
sistently begged for a penny, which I at last gave him, was 
somewhat different, for he dashed off with a shout, and, as I 
paused on the corner of the street, an army of young raga- 
muffins seemed to start out from every nook and cranny, with 
outstretched arms and rags fluttering in the breeze, and shrill 
cries of " Gi' me one, gi' me a penny," so that I was glad to 
take refuge in the cab I had signalled. 

From Liverpool, instead of starting directly for London, I 



iQ THE LAKE DISTRICT. 

concluded to go to Scotland, passing through the Lake district 
en route. If the reader will look at a good map of England 
and Scotland, and find Sohvay Firth, which is on the west 
coast, and then look at the country immediately south of ilv, 
occupying a portion of the counties of Cumberland, West- 
moreland, and Lancaster, he will see that it is full of lakes and 
mountains, and will find, on visiting it, that its picturesque 
attractions are unequalled in any other part of England. 
Additional interest is imparted to the Lake district from its 
being the haunt and home of many of England's most cele- 
brated modern poets ; and inspired, doubtless, by its lovely 
views and quiet beauty of landscape, from here have emanated 
some of their best compositions. 

We left the main road in our journey westward at a place 
called Oxenholme, and there took a 'bus, which carried us 
down to Lake Windermere. This lake is a beautiful, irregu- 
lar sheet of water, eleven miles in length and about a mile 
wide, and numerous little islands add to its picturesque ap- 
pearance, the scenery being soft and graceful ; the gentle 
slopes and eminences that surround it, and the numerous 
country-seats and cottages peeping from the wooded slopes, 
combining to render it one of those pictures of quiet beauty 
that English poets delight to sing of. The hotel that we 
rested at was perched upon a commanding eminence, from 
which a delightful view of the lake and surrounding scenery 
was obtained. 

The pretty village of Bowness, near by, attracted my atten- 
tion, this being my first experience in an English country 
village ; and its appearance was in many respects novel, and 
unlike what I had expected. First, I was struck at the entire 
absence of wooden houses ; wood is scarce here ; the houses 
are all built of stone, about the color of our stone walls in the 
country towns of New England, the stones about two feet 
square, and irregular in shape. A little rustic porch of wood, 
with <!he bark on, is sometimes built before the door, and this 
is overrun with ivy, or some climbing and flowering plant. 
Some of the more pretentious houses had stone porches ; but 



A CHARMIHG KIDE. 37 

all round and about them was twined the beautiful ivy, 
honeysuckle, or other plants, from in and out of which hopped 
and twittered the sparrows. 

The village streets were quite narrow, and some as crooked 
as the letter S, but all scrupulously clean. There were no 
great brush heaps, chips, dirt-piles, or worn-out tin ware about 
any of thase charming little cottages or their vicinity; the 
appearance is as if the place had just been thoroughly swept 
up and put in holiday trim. One reason for this is, I suppose, 
that everything here is utilized that a penny can be realized 
upon, and what we make a litter with about an American 
house of the kind, is here either sold, or turned to account in 
some other way ; but certainly this air of extreme neatiiess, 
which I noticed iu many English \ illages, must, in a degree, 
account for some of their tourists' disgust in America. I have 
not seen a man spit on the floor here since I set foot in Eng- 
land, and the floors even of the village ale-houses are a striking 
contrast to those of our New England country taverns : spit- 
ting appears to be an American national habit. 

After a quiet rest at this charming spot, we chartered a 
" dog cart," and started on a ride of twenty-three miles, for 
Keswick; and of the charming drives I have had, this surpasses 
all. The road ran along Lake Windermere to Ambleside, 
Grasmere to Rydal Lake and Rydal Mount, Nab-Scar up 
Dunmail Raise in sight of Helvellyn, and past Thirlraere. 

The views were beautiful — high hills, with little green- 
shored lakes set in among them, like flashing brilliants ; pretty 
little English villages, like those already described; country- 
seats ; little rustic arched stone bridges, with dark, cool trout- 
streams running beneath them; grand country-seats, with 
their imposing entrances and porters' lodges ; old ivy-clad 
churches, and here and there a tall grove of trees, with the 
rooks cawing in their branches. The bridges, walls, cottages, 
and churches, with their dark stone-work relieved by clustering 
ivy, had a softened and pleasing appearance to the eye, while 
the fields and meadows were a vivid green, and swarming 
with sheep and young lambs frisking about them, cr on the 
lawns and hill-sides. 



38 HOME OF THE POETS. 

The road continually gave us long reaches of these views, 
such as I had never seen before, except in paintings, or in 
the better class of English illustrated books. We passed 
Dove's Nest, where Mrs. Hemans lived for a year; saw Miss 
Martineau's pleasant and picturesque residence, Words- 
worth's house at Rydal Mount, and went to the little cottage 
on the borders of Grasmere Lake, where he dwelt when 
young, and wrote much of his best poetry ; then to the hum- 
ble cottage, not far from the lake shore, where De Quincey 
lived. 

We drove to the churchyard in the little village of Grass- 
mere, to visit Wordsworth's grave, — a charming spot, — the 
little church situated near a swift little stream, spanned by 
arched stone bridges, and surrounded by scenery of rustic 
beauty. The grave of the poet is marked by a plain stone, 
upon which are inscribed his own and his wife's name ; and 
not far from it is the grave of Hartley Coleridge. The 
secluded and beautiful spot seemed a fitting resting-place for 
the poet ; the gentle babble of the little stream, the peaceful 
rustle of the grass in the churchyard, and the modest little 
daisies that bloomed upon the graves, all seemed to lend a 
tranquil and dreamy calm to the place, that made it appear 
as if hallowed to the poet's repose. 

Keswick, our next halting-place, is situated in a delightful 
vale, between Derwentwater, or Keswick Lake, and Bassen- 
ihailewater, and surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills. 
The elegant Keswick Hotel is situated in a charming posi- 
tion, just out of the town, and in the centre of the great 
circle of hills — one of the finest and best-kept houses of 
the kind in all England. From its great coffee-room, or, as 
we should call it, dining-room, which runs nearly half the 
length of one side of the house, and the promenade, or balus- 
trade, which extends the whole length, is a most charming 
view, and the grounds of the house, which are quite exten- 
sive, are laid out quite handsomely. First came an elegant, 
close-shaven lawn, running one hundred feet from the hotel 
walk ; then a green terrace, descended by ornamental stone 



KESWICK- 39 

seeps; then a broad gravel walk, or mall, running round the 
estate ; and from this another broad, green lawn, sloping gen- 
tly down to the little Greta River, a stream of about twenty 
feet in width at this point, spanned, here and there, with 
arched stone bridges, and dashing off into several noisy little 
waterfalls. 

From, this little park of the hotel there is a pretty view of 
the village of Keswick, with its dark stone-work houses, and 
English church tower, rising above. Beyond, on every side 
in the huge circle, rise the lofty hill-tops, and here and there 
elegant country-seats and villas sit enthroned, midway as it 
were in the mountain's lap, and some high up towards the 
breezy peaks. The verdant sides of the hill are pencilled off, 
as it were, with hedges, marking the division lines of prop- 
erty, and a winding road occasionally throws its brown tracks 
out amid the green. 

The Keswick Hotel is built of lighter colored stone than is 
generally used for houses there, and is finished off in such an 
expensive and ornamental style as to look quite like an Eng- 
lish hall or country-seat. It is owned, I think, by the rail- 
road company whose road passes here. The station is 
directly adjoining the house, and is reached by a glass-roofed 
walk, thirty or forty feet long. And here let me remark, that 
the excellent system, good management, and entire absence 
of noise, shrieking, puffing, blowing, whistling, and all sorts 
of disturbance that render a location near a railroad station 
in America so objectionable, were most striking. I never 
should have taken note of any arrival or departure of trains 
from any noise of them ; for, save the distant whistle as they 
approached, there was nothing to indicate their presence. 

The house is kept admirably. Such neatness, such thor- 
oughness, and such courteous attention, and such an incom- 
parable cuisine are, after one gets accustomed to English delib- 
eration, most gratifying to the tourist. There can be but few 
better places for the American traveller to see and enjoj 
English country life, and beautiful English scenery, than Kes- 
wick, and at this beautiful house, in the month of May. 



40 AN ENGLISH CHURCH. 

We rambled round through the quaint village of Keswick, 
and of a Sunday morning took our way over two little stone 
bridges, on through a deep, shady English lane, with the 
trees arching overhead, and the hedges green at its side, to 
Crossthwaite Church, built several hundred years ago, and 
with its rustic churchyard, beautiful and green, containing 
the graves of the poet Southey and his wife. I sat upon an 
old slab in the churchyard, and watched the pretty, rustic 
picture, as the bells sweetly chimed, and the villagers came 
to church ; some up the green lane by twos and threes, others 
across the fields and over stiles, threading . their way among 
the churchyard mounds to the rural church. 

Wordsworth describes in one of his poems the English 
rural church so perfectly that I cannot forbear making the 
extract, it was so appropriate to this, which stood amid 

" The vales and hills whose beauties hither drew 
The poet's steps." 

In fact, Wordsworth's description might well be taken as a 
correct one of almost any one of the picturesque English com> 
trv churches that the tourist sees here in the rural districts 

" Not framed to nice proportions was the pile, 
But large and massy, for duration built; 
With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld 
By naked rafters, intricately crossed, 
Like leafless underboughs in some thick grove. 
All withered by the depth of shade above. 
Admonitory texts inscribed the walls, 
Each in its ornamental scroll enclosed ; 
Each also crowned with winged heads — a pair 
Of rudely painted cherubim. The floor 
Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise, 
Was occupied by oaken benches ranged 
In seemly rows ; the chancel only showed 
Some inoffensive marks of earthly state 
And vain distinction. A capacious pew 
Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery kzu>4. 
And marble monuments were here displayed 
Upon the walls ; and on the floor beneath 



THE DRUIDS' TEMPLE. 41 

Sepulchral stones appeared, with emblems graven, 
And foot-worn epitaphs, and some with small 
And shining effigies of brass inlaid." 

The marks of earthly state and vain distinction in the 
church were two old stone effigies of Lord Derwentwater 
and his wife, died in 1527, with a very legible inscription in 
brass setting forth that fact, and a white marble effigy and 
monument to Southey. 

In the churchyard is a plain black slate tombstone over the 
poet's grave, on which is inscribed, " Here lies the body of 
Robert Southey, LL. D., Poet Laureate. Born August 12., 
1774; died March 21, 1843. For forty years resident in 
this parish. Also, of Edith, his wife, bom May 20, 1774; 
died November 16, 1837." Returning home, Ave passed 
" Greta Hall," the poet's residence, situated in Keswick, a 
plain mansion, upon a slight elevation just back from the 
street, commanding a good view of the surrounding scenery, 
and with a pleasant, grassy slope in front, and beautiful 
shrubbery round and about its well-kept grounds. 

Another pleasant walk was one taken up a winding road 
on the hill-side, to a spot containing some of the Druidical 
remains found in different parts of England. This is known 
here as the Druids' Temple, and consists of a great circle of 
upright stones, six or eight feet in height, and set up at reg 
ular intervals, with two or three placed together at one side 
of the circle, as if for a gigantic altar. The spot for tins 
temple was admirably chosen by the ancient priests of the 
oak and mistletoe for their mysterious rites, being upon a 
sort of natural platform, or hill shaped like a truncated cone, 
while all round rises a natural circle of lesser hills. 

From Keswick to Penrith is a pleasant ride by rail. Near 
the station in Penrith are the ruins of an old castle, for a long 
lime the residence of the Duke of Gloster, afterwards Rich- 
ard III. From this spot we started on a pleasant walk for 
Brougham Hall, the seat of Lord Brougham, about two and 
a half miles distant, passing on the way a curious formation 
in a field, denominated King Arthur's Round Table. It 



42 BROUGHAM HALL. 

very much resembles places in waste land in America, where 
a travelling circus has left its ring-mark, that becomes over 
grown with tuif, only the circle was much larger. This field 
and formation were carefully preserved by the owner, it being, 
as we were informed, one of those places where the Knights 
of King Arthur's time used to exercise themselves in the 
practice of horsemanship and feats of arms. P( rhaps it was. 

Brougham Hall is situated upon a hill not far from the ruins 
of Brougham Castle, and is an old and picturesque building, 
commanding, from its elevated position, extensive views of 
the surrounding country. The place was invested with a 
peculiar interest, as being the residence of one of England's 
greatest orators and statesmen. His voice, since our visit to 
his beautiful home, however, has been hushed forever, and he 
has laid him down to sleep with the humblest. 

Owing to its situation and prospects, the English guide- 
books style this castle the " Windsor of the North." The 
grounds are beautifully laid out — a broad lawn, bounded by 
a grove of old trees, with the rooks cawing and circling about 
them ; the great paved court-yard of the castle, upon which 
the stables and servants' rooms looked out ; a tower on the 
stables, with clock and bell. From this, a Gothic arched 
gateway opened into another square and more pretentious 
court-yard, upon which the inner windows of his lordship's 
family looked. On one side of this court-yard, the castle 
wall was completely covered with a thick, heavy mass of 
beautiful ivy, the window spaces and turrets all being cut out 
in shape, giving it a novel and picturesque appearance. In 
the centre of this court-yard was a pretty grass plat. 

The other front of the castle looked out upon the estate, 
and the view from the windows upon this side was lovely. 
The fine lawn and trimly laid out grounds, the gradually slop- 
ing landscapes stretching down to the little River Eamont, 
winding on its tortuous way, and spanned, as usual, by the 
pretty arched bridges, and the hills of Ulls water for a back- 
ground, made a charming prospect. There were so many 
novel and interesting things to see in the different apartmepts 



IN'SIP'B LORD BROUGHAM'S RESIDENCE. 48 

of the castle, that description will in some degree appear but 
tame. 

We first went into the armor-room, used on great occasions 
as a dining-hall. The apartment was not very large, but the 
walls and niches were filled with rare and curious arms and 
armor of various periods, and that had been used by historki 
personages. Here we were shown the skull of one of Lord 
Brougham's ancestors, carefully preserved under a glass case 
" — a Knight Templar, who fought in the first crusade; this 
skull was taken, together with a spur, from his coffin a few 
years ago, when the tomb was opened, where he was found 
lying with crossed feet, as a good Knight Templar should lie. 
At one end of this hall was a little raised gallery about five 
feet from the floor, separated from the room by a high Gothic 
screen, through which a view of the whole could be obtained. 
This platform led to an elegant little octagon chamber, a few 
steps higher up, occupied by Lord Brougham's son as a sort of 
lounging and writing room. In this apartment were a few 
choice and beautiful pictures ; one of dogs fighting, presented 
to Lord Brougham by Louis Napoleon, some original Titians, 
Vandykes, Tintorettos, Hogarth, &c. 

We next visited the drawing-room, which was hung all 
over with beautiful Gobelin tapestry, wrought to represent 
the four quarters of the globe in productions, fruit, flowers, 
vegetation, and inhabitants — a royal gift and an elegant sight. 
Here were also displayed a fine Sevres dessert service, the gift 
of Louis Philippe, the great purses of state j>resented to 
Lord Brougham when he was chancellor, as a sort of badge 
or insignia of office. These were rigged on fire-frame screens, 
and were heavily gold-embroidered affairs, twenty-four inches 
square or more, and worth over three hundred pounds each. 
Here also was a glass case filled with gifts made to Lord 
Brougham by different distinguished personages, such as gold 
snuff-boxes from different cities, watches, a miniature, taken 
from life, of "the great Napoleon, presented by Joseph Bona- 
parte, &c. 

The library, which was well stocked with choice books, 



14 ANTIQUE FURNITURE. 

was another elegant room, most artistically arranged. Hera 
portraits of great writers, by great artists, occupied con- 
spicuous positions ; and among other noteworthy pictures in 
this room was one of Hogarth, painted by himself, a portrait 
of Voltaire and others. 

The ceilings of these apartments were laid out in squares 
or diamond indentation, elegantly frescoed, or carved from 
the solid oak, the color formed to harmonize with the fur- 
niture and upholstery. The ceiling of the drawing-room was 
occupied by the different quarterings of the coat of arms of 
the Brougham family, in carved work of gold and colors, one 
to each panel, very elaborately finished. 

When we wer< escorted to the sleeping apartments, new sur- 
prises awaited us. Here was one complete suite of rooms, — 
chambers, dressing-room, closet, &c, — all built and furnished 
in the early Norman style ; the old, carved, black, Norman 
bedstead, hundreds of years old ; gilt leather tapestry on the 
walls, decorated with Norman figures of knights, horses and 
spearmen ; huge Norman-looking chairs ; great brass-bound 
oaken chests, black with age and polished by the hand of 
time ; rude tables ; chests of drawers ; the doors and windows 
with semicircular arched head-pieces, the former of massive 
black oak, with huge brass chevron-shaped hinges, quaint 
door-handles, and bolts of the period represented, and the 
various ornaments of zigzag, billet, nail-head, &c, of Norman 
architecture appearing in every direction. Something of the 
same style is seen in some of our Episcopal churches in 
America, but it is more modernized. Here the Norman rooms 
were Norman in all details, the dark, old wood was polished 
smooth as steel, the brass work upon the doors and old chests 
gleamed like beaten gold, and the whole picture of quaint, 
old tracery of arches and narrow windows, tapestry, carving, 
and massive furniture, conveyed an impression of wealth, 
solidity, and substantial beauty. 

From the Norman rooms we passed into the Norman 
gallery, a corridor of about fifty feet long and sixty feet wide, 
upon the sides of which are painted a complete copy of the 



A KO AD-SIDE INN. 4i) 

wondrous Bayeaux tapestry, wrought by Matilda, queen of 
William I., and representing the conquest of England — the 
only perfect copy said to have been made. The different 
sleeping apartments were each furnished in different styles; 
m one was an elegantly carved bedstead, of antique design, 
which cost four hundred guineas, and was a present to Lord 
Brougham. 

Lord Brougham's own study, and his favorite resort for 
reading, writing, and thinking, was one of the plainest, most 
unpretending rooms in the whole building; the furniture of 
the commonest kind, the pictures old impressions of Hogarth's. 
Marriage a la Mode, and the Industrious and Idle Apprentice, 
in cheap frames, and that familiar to Americans, of Humboldt 
in his study. Two battered hats, hung upon a wooden hat- 
tree in the corner, — hats that Punch has made almost histor- 
ical, and certainly easily recognizable wherever seen, — com- 
pleted the picture of the simple apartment where one of the 
greatest statesmen of the present generation was wont to 
muse upon the affairs of one of the mightiest nations of the 
world, at whose helm his was the guiding hand. 

Returning on our way to the railway station, we lunched 
m the tap-room of a little wayside inn, " The White Hart," 
just one of those places that we Americans read of in English 
novels, and which are so unlike anything we have at home, 
that we sometimes wonder if the description of them is not 
also a part of the writer's creation. But here was one just 
as if it had stepped out of an English story book ; the little 
room for guests had a clean tile floor ornamented with al- 
ternate red and white chalk stripes, a fireplace of immense 
height and width, round which the village gossips probably 
sipped their ale o' winter nights, the wooden chairs and 
benches and the wooden table in the centre of the room, 
spotlessly clean and white from repeated scrubbings ; half a 
dozen long clay tobacco pipes were in a tray on the table 
for smokers, clustering vines and snowy curtains shaded the 
windows, and there was an air of quiet comfort and somno- 
lency about the place quite attractive to one who was fatigued 
with a long and dusty walk. 



46 "MINE EASE AT MINE INN." 

The landlady entered with snowy apron, broad, clean cap, 
and of a figure suggestive of the nutritious quality of .English 
ale or good living, and, like the Mrs. Fezziwig of Dickens,— 

" One vast, substantial smile." 

"What will you please to horder, sir?" 

" Can we have some ale and crackers ? " 

" Hale, sir ? Yes, sir. Bread and cheese, sir ? " {interrog- 
atively). 

" Yes ; bread and cheese." 

"Two mugs and bread and cheese, Mary," said the land- 
lady, as she bustled out through the passage to a little wicket 
enclosure, behind which we caught through the opening door 
the flash of tankards in gleaming rows, and in a moment 
more "Mary" tripped in with two beer mugs, shining like 
silver, and the snowy foam rising high and bubbling in creamy 
luxuriance over their brims upon the little tray that bore 
them. 

Good English home-brewed is said to be better than that 
served in America ; perhaps it may be that we " 'aven't got 
the 'ops " to make as good as they brew in England, or it 
may be that tasting it while the spring breeze is blowing the 
perfume from the hedgerows and meadows in at the windows 
of little road-side inns, which command a pretty rustic view of 
gentle slope, green valley, and cool shade trees, has something 
to do with one's judgment of it. The attack upon the ale 
of old England and the loaf of sweet, close-grained bread 
and cheese, involved the enormous outlay of ten pence, to 
which we added two more for Mary, an even shilling, for 
which she dropped a grateful courtesy, and we strolled on 
through the antiquated little town of Penrith, visiting the 
churchyard and seeing the giant's grave, a space of eight 
teet between a gigantic head and foot stone, each coverrd 
with nearly obliterated Runic inscriptions. 



EDINBURGH. 



CHAPTER III. 

From Penrith we were whirled away over the rails to Ed- 
inburgh. Edinburgh is certainly a wonder — a wonder of his- 
toric interest, a wonder of curious old buildings, and a wonder 
of magnificent new ones. Here we were in the very place 
that Walter Scott has made us long and long to see, and 
were to visit the scenes that were sung in his matchless min- 
strelsy, and painted in his graphic romances. Here was the 
city where Knox, the Reformer, preached, and Mary, Queen 
of Scots, held her brief and stormy reign. Here we were to 
see Holyrood, Edinburgh Castle, and a hundred scenes identi- 
fied with Scottish history, the very names of which served to 
help the melodious flow of the rhythm of Scott's entrancing 
poems. With what wondrous charms does the poet and novel- 
ist invest historic scenes ! How memory carried us back to 
the days when the Tales of a Grandfather held us chained to 
their pages, as with a spell ! How the Waverley Novels' 
scenes came thronging into imagination's eye, like the half- 
forgotten scenes of happy youth, when we read of the bold 
Scottish champions, the fierce Highlanders, and the silken 
courtiers, the knights, battles, spearmen, castles, hunts, feasts, 
and pageants, so vividly described by the Wizard of the 
North! 

Here we are at a hotel on Princes Street, right opposite the 
Scott Monument, a graceful structure of Gothic arches and 
pinnacles, and enshrining a figure of Sir Walter and his favor- 
ite dog. The view, seen from Princes Street, reminds one 
very much of the pictures of Athens Restored, with its beau- 
tiful public buildings of Grecian architecture. Between 
Princes Street, which is in the new, and the old city is a deep 
ravine or valley, as it were, now occupied by the tracks of the 
railroad, and spanned by great stone-arched bridges. An im- 



48 HISTORIC STREETS. 

mense embankment, called the Mound, also connects the old 
and new city, its slopes descending east and west into beauti- 
ful gardens towards the road-bed. Upon the Mound are the 
Royal Institution, Gallery of Fine Arts, the former a sort of 
Pantheon-looking building, and both with plenty of space 
around them, so that they look as if placed there expressly U> 
be seen and admired. 

Princes Street, which is one of the finest in Great Britain, 
runs east and west. It is entirely open upon the south side, 
and separated only by a railing from the lovely gardens that 
run down into the hollow I have mentioned, between the old 
and new town. Looking across the hollow, we see the old 
city, where the historic steeples of St. Giles and others mingle 
among the lofty houses in the extended panoramic view, the 
eastern end of which is completed by the almost impregnable 
old castle, rich in historic interest, which lifts its battlements 
from its rocky seat two hundred feet above the surrounding 
country, and is a grand and picturesque object. The city, 
both old and new, appears to be built of stone resembling our 
darkest granite. The old toAvn is built upon a ridge, gradu- 
ally ascending towards the castle, and is a curious old place, 
with its lofty eight and ten-story houses, its narrow lanes, 
called " wynds," or " closes," and swarming population. 

The " closes " are curious affairs, being sort of narrow en- 
closures, running up in between lofty buildings, with only one 
place of ingress and egress, that could, in old times, be closed 
by a portcullis, the remains of some of them being still in ex- 
istence, and were built as defences against incursions of the 
Highlanders. 

Here in the old town are many streets, the names of which 
will be recognized by all familia*" with Scott — the High 
Street, Grass Market, Cow Gate, and Canon Gate. We 
went, one afternoon, and stood in the Grass Market, amid a 
seething mass of humanity that fills it. Lofty old houses rise 
high about on all sides, every one with a history, and some of 
them two or three hundred years old — houses the windows 
of which were oft packed with eager faces to see the criminaJ 



EDINBURGH CASTLE. 49 

executions here. Some of these houses, Scott says in his 
Heart of Mid-Lothian, were formerly the property of the 
Knights Templars and Knights of St. John, and still exhibit, 
on their points and gables, the cross of those orders in iron — 
houses that looked down on the furious mob that hung Cap- 
tain Porteous upon the dyer's pole, over the very spot where we 
stood. Then, walking down towards the other extremity, we 
entered the Canon Gate, extending down the hill towards 
Holyrood Palace — Canon Gate, which was the residence of 
the wealthy canons of the clmrch when Holyrood was an ab- 
bey, and after the Reformation the abode of the Scottish, 
aristocracy. At one end of the old city stands Holyrood, at 
the other the castle rock rears its rugged height. 

The new city is beautifully laid out in broad streets and 
squares, which are adorned with imposing buildings, monu- 
ments, and bronze statues of celebrated men ; but I am not 
to give a guide-book description of Edinburgh, although there 
is so much that interests in its streets and buildings that one 
is almost tempted to do so. 

The very first visit one desires to make is to the lofty old 
castle that overlooks the city. It is situated on an elevated 
basaltic rock, and is separated from the town by an es]Dlanade 
about three hundred feet wide, and three hundred and fifty 
long. The castle is said to have been founded in the year 
617, and contains many curious relics of antiquity, and is 
fraught with historic interest, having been the scene of so 
many crimes, romantic adventures, captivities, and sieges, 
within the past three or four hundred years — scenes that have 
been the most vivid in the pages of history, and formed an 
almost inexhaustible theme for the most graphic pictures of 
the novelist. 

Among the most notable captures will be recollected that 
of the Earl of Randolph, nephew to Robert Bruce And also, 
when in the possession of the English King Edward I., thirty 
brave fellows, guided by a young man called William Frank, 
who had often climbed up and down the Castle Rock to visit 
hirt sweetheart, ventured one night, in their heavy iron armor, 
4 



50 BONNIE DUNDEE. 

with their swords and axes, to scale the most precipitous side 
overhanging the West Princes Street Gardens, and, succeed- 
ing, quickly overcame the garrison. In 1341, when the castle 
was again held by the English, Sir William Douglas and Sir 
Simon Fraser took it by stratagem and surprise in broad daj 
light, having sent in a cart loaded with wine, which was dex- 
terously overturned in the gateway, so that the gate could 
not be closed when the Scottish soldiers rushed forward to 
the attack. 

The broad esplanade before the castle affords a fine view, 
and is used as a place for drilling the troops, the castle having 
accommodations for two thousand men. We passed across 
this, and by the statue of the Duke of York, son of George 
III., and uncle of Queen Victoria, and the monumental cross, 
erected in memory of the officers of the Highland regiment 
who fell in the years 1857 and 1858, in the Indian Rebellion 
War. On over the moat and draw-bridge, and through the 
old portcullis gate, over which was the old prison in which 
the Earl of Argyle, and numerous adherents of the Stuarts, 
were confined previous to their execution, and after passing 
beneath this, were fairly within the castle. One point of in- 
terest was the old sally-port, up which Dundee climbed to 
have a conference with the Duke of Gordon, when on his way 
to raise the Highland clans in favor of King James II., while 
the convention were assembled in the Parliament House, and 
were proceeding to settle the crown upon William and Mary, 

Dundee, accompanied by only thirty picked men, rode 
-swiftly along a street in the old city, nearly parallel to the 
present fine of Princes Street, while the drums in the town 
were beating to arms to pursue him ; and leaving his men in 
a by-place, clambered up the steep rock at this point, and 
urged the duke to accompany him, but without effect. Scott's 
song of "Bonnie Dundee" tells us, — 

" Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street, 
The bells they ring backward, the drums they are beat; 
But the provost, deuce man ! said, ' Just e'en let him be. 
For the town is well rid of that de'il o' Dundee.' " 






BOOMS OF HISTORIC SIOET. 51 

Dundee rode off towards Stirling, with the threat that, — 

"If there's lords in the Southland, there's chiefs in the North; 
There are wild dunnie wassals, three thousand times three, 
Will cry, ' Hey for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee ! ' " 

From what is known as the Bomb Battery an excellent 
view of Edinburgh is obtained. Here is a curious piece of 
early artillery, of huge size, designated Mons Meg, made at 
Mons in Belgium, in 1476, of thick iron bars hooped together, 
and twenty inches diameter at the bore. Near this is the 
Chapel of Queen Margaret, a little Norman building eight 
hundred years old, used by Margaret, Queen of Malcolm III., 
daughter of Edward the Outlaw, and granddaughter of Ed- 
mund Ironside, who, it will be remembered, disputed the 
crown of England for so many years with Canute. 

One of the most interesting, as well as one of the oldest 
rooms, was a little irregular-shaped apartment, known as 
Queen Mary's Room, being the room in which James VI. 
was born, in 1566. The original ceiling remains, with the 
initials J. R. and M. R., surmounted by a crown, and wrought 
into the panels. From the window of this little room, it is 
said, the infant king was let down to the street, two hundred 
and fifty feet below, by means of a rope and basket, and car- 
ried off secretly to Stirling Castle, to be baptized in the Ro 
man Catholic faith. When James made his first visit to Scot- 
land, in 1617, after his accession to the English throne, he 
caused the royal arms to be elaborately painted on the wall, 
and underneath his mother's prayer, which still remains in 
quaint old English letters, somewhat difficult to decipher : — 

" Lord Jesu Chryst that crownit was with Thornse 
Preserve the birth quhais Badyie heir is borne. 
And send hir Sonne successive to reigne stille 
Lang in this Realme, if that it be Thy will. 
Als grant O Lord quhat ever of Hir proseed 
Be to Thy Glorie, Honer and Prais sobied." 

The view from the windows, here at the east and south 



b2 THE SCOTTISH EEGALIA. 

sides of the old castle, is varied and romantic. The curious 
old houses in the Grass Market, far down below ; the quaint, 
blackened old streets of the old city ; the magnificent towers 
of Heriot's Hospital against the blue sky; and stretching 
beyond the city, the fine landscape, with the familiar Borough 
moor, where the Scottish hosts were wont to muster by clans 
and chieftains, — form a scene of picturesque beauty not soon 
forgotten. 

The armory of the castle contains many interesting weap- 
one of ancient warfare. Among the most notable was a coat 
of mail worn by one of the Douglases in Cromwell's time ; 
Rob Roy's dagger; some beautiful steel pistols, used by some 
of the Highland followers of Prince Charles Stuart at the 
battle of Culloden ; and cuirasses worn by the French cui- 
rassiers at Waterloo. The crown room contains the regalia 
of Scotland, and the celebrated crown of Robert Bruce. 
The regalia of Scotland consist of a crown, sceptre, and 
sword of state, the latter a most beautiful piece of workman- 
ship, the scabbard elegantly ornamented with chased and 
wrought work, representing oak leaves and acorns, and which 
was a present from Pope Julius II. to James IV. Particular 
interest attaches to these regalia, from the fact of their discov- 
ery through Scott's exertions, in 1818, after a disappearance 
of about one hundred and eleven years. . The crown is the dia- 
dem that pressed the valiant brow of Robert the Bruce, and 
the devoted head of Mary, and was placed upon the infant 
brow of her son. Charles II. was the last monarch who 
wore this regal emblem, which is connected with so many 
stirring events in Scottish history. 

From Edinburgh Castle, a gradually descending walk, 
through some of the most interesting portions of the old 
city, will take the visitor to Holyrood Palace and Abbey, — 
quite a distance, but which should be walked rather than 
rode, if the tourist is a pedestrian of moderate powers, as it 
is thronged with so many points of historic interest, to which 
I can only make a passing allusion. The High Street, as it is 
called, is one of the principal through which we pass, and in 



CUEIOSITIES OF THE OLD CITY. 53 

old. times was considered very fine ; but its glory departed 
with the building of the new portion of the city, and the 
curious old " closes," in the streets diverging from it, are the 
habitations of the lowest class of the population. 

Bow Street, which, if I remember rightly, runs into Grass 
Market from High Street, was formerly known as West Bow, 
from an arch or bow in the city wall. We passed down this 
quaint old street, which used to be the principal avenue l»y 
which carriages reached the upper part of the city. It was 
a curve of lofty houses, filthy kennels, and noisy children, 
spirit-shops, groceries, and garbage; yet up this street had 
ridden, in old times, Anne of Denmark, James I., Charles I., 
Oliver Cromwell, Charles II., and James II. It was down 
this street that the Earl of Argyle and Marquis of Montrose 
were dragged, in the hangman's cart, to execution in the 
Grass Market, which is situated at its foot, and to which I 
have previously alluded. Porteous was also dragged down 
through this street to execution, by the rioters who took him 
from his jailers. 

In the old city we visited a court called Dunbar's Close, 
where, after the victory of Dunbar, some of Cromwell's sol- 
diers were quartered. Here remains a carved inscription, 
said to bear the oldest date in the city. It reads as follows ■ 

H faftfj m Christ, 
©nlie Sa&it, fBWmue. 

St. Giles Church, in High Street, is a notable building, and 
was, in popish times, the cathedral of the city, named after 
St. Giles, Edinburgh's patron saint. I will not tire the reader 
with a visit to its interior ; but it was here that took place 
that incident, which every school-boy recollects, of Jenny 
Geddes throwing her stool at the head of the officiating cler- 
gyman, upon his attempt to read the liturgy as prescribed by 
Archbishop Laud, and which it was proposed to introduce 
into Scotland. 

The "Solemn League and Covenant" was sworn to and 
signed in this church, in 1643. Just within the railings sur- 



&4 HOLYROOD PALACE. 

rounding the old church stands the shaft of the old cross of 
Edinburgh ; and the site of the Tollbooth, which figures in 
Scott's novels, is marked, near by, by the figure of a heart in 
the pavement — "The Heart of Mid-Lothian." Numerous 
other points of historic interest might be enumerated, did 
space permit. We must, as we pass rapidly on, not forget 
to take a view of the quaint old rookery-looking mansion of 
John Knox, the Reformer, with a steej) flight of steps, leading 
up to a door high above the sidewalk, and the inscription 
upon it, which I could not read, but which I was informed was 

3Lttfe @oti abooe all, atttJ 
Hour HetsPour as Houtselt, 

and the massive-looking old Canon Gate Tollbooth, erected in 
the reign of James VI. On we go through the Canon Gate, 
till we emerge in the open space in front of that ancient 
dwelling-place of Scottish royalty, Holyrood Palace. 

Holyrood Palace is interesting from the numerous important 
events in Scottish history that have transpired within its 
walls. It is a great quadrangular building, with a court-yard 
ninety-four feet square. Its front is flanked with double cas- 
tellated towers, the tops peaked, and looking something like 
the lid of an old-fashioned coffee-pot, or an inverted tin tun- 
nel, with the pipe cut off. The embellishments in front of 
the entrance to the palace and the beautiful fountain were 
completed under the direction, and at the expense, of the late 
Prince Albert. The palace is said to have been founded by 
James IV., quite early in the year 1500, and it was his chief 
residence up to the time of his death, at Flodden, in 1513. 
Some of the events that give it its historic celebrity are 
those that transpired during the life of Mary, Queen of Scots, 
who made it her ordinary residence after her return to her 
native country, in 1561. It was here that Mary was mar- 
ried to Darnley, and we were shown the piece of stone flag- 
ging upon which they knelt during the ceremony, and which 
we profaned with our own knees, with true tourist fervor ; 
here that Rizzio, or, as they spell it in Scotland, Riccio, was 



GOING INTO HO L T ROOD. 55 

murdered in her very presence ; here that she married Both- 
well, endured those fiery discussions with the Scotch Re- 
formers, and wept at the rude and coarse upbraidings of 
John Knox ; here that James VI. brought his queen, Anne 
of Denmark, in 1590, and had her crowned in the chapel; 
here, also, was Charles I. crowned, and here, after the battle 
of Dunbar, in 1650, did Cromwell quarter a ]3art of his forces. 

In modern times, George IV. visited the palace in 1822, 
granting, after his departure, over twenty thousand pounds 
for repairs and improvements ; and in 1850, Queen Victoria, 
Prince Albert, and the royal children made a visit there, and 
since that time she stops annually on her way to and from 
her Highland residence at the Castle of Balmoral, for a brief 
period here at old Holyrood. 

To those familiar at all, from reading history or the ro- 
mances and poems, with those events in which this old pile 
occupies a prominent position, it of course possesses a great 
interest. 

In the broad, open space before the palace, the elaborate 
fountain, with its floriated pinnacles, figures, &c, will attract 
attention, although it ill accords with the old buildings. 
The most interesting apartments in the palace are those of 
Mary, Queen of Scots. 

Passing in at the entrance gate, and buying tickets at a 
little office very much like a theatrical ticket office, we visited 
the more ancient part of the palace, and entered first Lord 
Darnley's rooms. These wei'e hung with fine specimens of 
ancient tapestry, upon which Cupids are represented plucking 
fruit, and throwing it down to others ; oak trees and leaves, 
Cupids plucking grapes, &c. Another scene was a lake and 
castle, with fruit trees and Cupids ; also figures of nude 
youngsters, turning somersaults and performing different 
antics. Another room contains two pieces of tapestry, tell- 
ing the story of the flaming cross that appeared to Constan 
tine the Great, the motto, In hoc signo vinces^ embroidered 
on the corner of the hangings ; Darnley's elegant armor, &c. 
Other fine pieces of tapestry are in Darnley's bed-room and 



Ob RELICS OF THE PAST. 

dressing-room. Portraits of Scottish kings also adorn the 
walls. 

We were then shown Queen Mary's private staircase, that 
by which Darnley admitted the conspirators up from a little 
turret room to assassinate Rizzio. Mary's audience chamber 
is a room about twenty feet square, the ceiling divided into 
panelled compartments, adorned with initials and armorial 
bearings, and the walls hung with tapestry, upon which were 
wrought various scenes, now sadly faded by the withering 
breath of time. These tapestry hangings the curious traveller 
soon becomes accustomed to, and the more, I think, one sees 
of them, the more he admires them — ■ the scenes of ancient 
mythology or allegorical design so beautifully wrought as to 
rival even oil paintings in beauty of color and design, and 
exciting a wonder at the skill and labor that were expended 
in producing with many colored threads these wondrous loom 
mosaics. In the audience chamber stands the bed of Charles 
I., and upon this couch Prince Charles, the unfortunate de- 
scendant of the former occupant, slept in September, 1745, 
and the Duke of Cumberland, his conqueror, rested upon the 
same couch. Cumberland, yes, we recollect him ; he figured 
in Lochiel's "Warning, Campbell's beautiful poem — 

" Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain." 

Some rich old chairs of the same period, and other furniture, 
are also in this room, which was the scene of Mary's alterca- 
tion with Knox. 

Looking upon the antique bed, one can see how, despite 
care, the hand of time leaves its indelible impress upon all 
that is of man's creation. You can scarcely imagine how 
time affects an old state bed. No matter what oe the care 
or exclusion from sunlight, the breath of time leaves its mark; 
the canopy and hangings gradually fade and deaden, the very 
life seems to be extracted, and they look like an old piece of 
husk or dried toast, light, porous, and moulding; tne wood- 
work, however, grows dark, and apparently as solid as iron ; 
tfie quaint carving stands out in jetty polish, rich and luxuri 



H0LYR00D ABBEY. 57 

ant — a study and a wonder of curious and fantastic art and 
sculpture in wood. 

Queen Mary's room is hung with a beautiful piece of tap- 
estry, representing the fall of Phaeton ; half hidden by this 
tapestry is the door opening upon the secret stair by which 
Rizzio's murderers entered; upon the wall hang portraits of 
Mary at the age of eighteen, portraits of Queen Elizabeth and 
King Henry VIII., presented her by Elizabeth; here also 
wa-s furniture used by the queen, and the baby linen basket 
sent her by Elizabeth. 

From here we enter that oft-described apartment so cele- 
brated in Scottish history — the queen's supper room, where 
Rizzio was murdered. Its small size generally excites as- 
tonishment. Here, into this little room, which half a dozen per- 
sons would fill, rushed the armed conspirators, overturning 
the table and dragging their shrieking victim from the very 
feet of the queen, as he clung to her dress for protection, 
stabbing him as they went beneath her very eyes, forcing 
him out into the audience chamber, and left him with over 
fifty ghastly wounds, from which his life ebbed in a crimson 
torrent, leaving its ineffaceable stain, the indelible mark upon 
the oaken floor, not more indelible than the blackened stain 
which rests upon the names of the perpetrators of this brutal 
murder. 

Adown the little staircase which the conspirators passed, 
we go through a low door into the court-yard. Over the 
top of this little door, a few years ago, in a crevice of the 
masonry, an antique dagger-blade was discovered by some 
workmen ; and as the murderers escaped through this door, it 
was surmised that this was one of the very daggers used hi 
the assassination. 

But we leave the place behind, and enter the romantic 
ruins of the old abbey. How interesting are these picturesque 
ruined remains of the former glory and power of the church 
of Rome in England ! Their magnificent proportions, beauty 
of architecture, and exquisite decoration bespeak the wealth 
of the church and the wondrous taste of those who reared 



t)8 A ROMANTIC RUIN. 

these piles, which, in their very ruin, command our admira. 
tion. The abbey is immediately adjoining the palace, — its 
front a beautiful style of early English architecture, and 
the noble, high-arched door, with cluster pillars, elaborately 
sculptured with fretwork figures of angels, flowers, vines, &c, 
— one of those specimens of stone carving that excite wonder 
at the amount of patient work, labor, and skill that must have 
been required in their production. 

The abbey was founded in 1128, and the fragment which 
remains formed the nave of the ancient builcling. Here are 
the graves of David II., James II., Darnley, and that of the 
ill-starred Rizzio, and other eminent personages, some of 
whom, judging from the ornaments upon the marble slabs 
of their graves, were good Freemasons and Knights Tem- 
plars, — the perfect ashler, setting maul, and square upon the 
former, and the rude-cut figures of reclining knights, with 
crossed feet and upraised hands, upon others, indicating the 
fact. 

But the gairish sun shines boldly down into the very centre 
of what was once the dim-lighted, solemn old abbey, with 
its cool, quiet cloisters, that scarce echoed to the monk's 
-sandalled footstep, and the gracefully-pointed arches, sup- 
ported by clusters of stone pillars, throw their quaint shadows 
on the greensward, now, where was once the chapel's stone 
pavement ; the great arched window through which the light 
once fell in shattered rainbows to the floor, stands now, slender 
and weird-like, with its tracery against the heaven, like a 
skeleton of the past ; and the half-obliterated or undecipher- 
able vain-glorious inscriptions upon the slabs, here and there, 
are all that remain of this monument of man's power and 
pride — a monument beautiful in its very ruins, and romantic 
from the halo of associations of the dim past that surround it 

The new city, to which I have referred, is a creation of the 
last, hundred years, the plans of it being published in 1768. 
The two great streets are George Street and Princes Street, 
the former filled with fine stores, and adorned with statues of 
William Pitt, George IV., and many public buildings and 
beautiful squares 



PANOK-VMIC VIEW OF EDINBURGH. 59 

Here, in Edinburgh, we began to hear the "burr" of the 
Scotch tongue. Many of the salesmen in the stores where 
tourists go to buy Scotch linen or Scotch pebble jewelry, the 
Scotch plaids which were temptingly displayed, or the warm 
underclothing which New Englanders appreciate, seemed to 
have their tongues roughened, as it were, to a sort of pleasant 
whir-r in speaking the English language. 

Up from one end of Princes Street rises Calton Hill, with 
its unfinished national monument, designed to represent the 
classical Parthenon at Athens ; and in one respect it does, 
being a sort of ruin, or, I may say, a fragment of ruin, con- 
sisting of a dozen splendid Doric columns, — for the monu- 
ment which was to commemorate the Scotchmen who fell at 
Waterloo was never finished. Here also is a round monument 
to Nelson, and a dome, supported by pillars, a monument 
to Professor Dugald Stewart; while a monument to Burns 
is seen upon the Regent's Road, close at hand. The view 
of the long vista of Princes Street from Calton Hill, in which 
the eye can take in at one sweep the Scott monument, the 
splendid classical-looking structures of the Royal Institution 
and National Gallery, the great castle on its rocky perch, 
and then turning about on the other side and viewing the 
square, solid old palace of Holyrood, with the fragment of 
ruined abbey attached, and rising high above them the emi- 
nence known as Arthur's Seat, and the winding cliffs of Salis- 
bury Crags, forms a panoramic scene of rare beauty and in- 
terest. 

Speaking of interest, I cannot leave Edinburgh without 
referring to the interesting collection of curious relics at the 
Antiquarian Museum. Think of standing in John Knox's 
pulpit, and thumping, with your curious, wonder-seeking band, 
the same desk that had held his Bible, or been smitten by bis 
indignant palm, as he denounced the church of Rome, nearly 
three hundred years ago ; of looking upon the very stool that 
Jenny Geddes launched at the head of the Dean of St. Giles, 
when he undertook to introduce the liturgy into Scotland, in 
1565; and seeing one of the very banners of the Covenanters 



60 ANTIQUARIAN" MUSEUM. 

that had been liorne amid the smoke and fire of their battles; 
nay, there, in a glass case, we saw the old Scotch Covenant 
itself, with the signatures of Montrose, Lothian, and their 
associates. Here also were Gustavus Aclolphus's spurs, Rob- 
ert Burns's pistols, the very glass that Prince Charlie drank 
from before the disastrous battle of Culloden; the origi- 
nal draft of inquiry into the massacre of GIpuooc, dated 
1656, original autographic letters from Charles VI., Prince 
Charles Edward Stuart, Cromwell, and Mary, Queen of 
Scots. This was reading Scottish history from the original 
documents. 

Here was the flag of Scotland that flouted the breeze at the 
battle of Dunbar, in 1650, the pikes of Charles II.'s pikemen, 
and the old Scottish six-ell spears; nails from the coffin and 
a portion of the very shroud of Robert Bruce, the blue ribbon 
of Prince Charlie, worn as Knight of the Garter, in 1745, and 
the very ring given to him by Flora Macdonald at parting. 
Among the horrors of the collection is " the Maiden," a rude 
guillotine of two upright posts, between which a loaded axe 
blade was hoisted by a cord, and let fall upon the devoted 
neck beneath. By this very instrument fell the Regent Mor- 
ton, in 1581, Sir John Gordon, in 1644, the Earl of Argyle, in 
1685, and many others — a bloody catalogue. 

The collection of ancient implements, coins, seals, medal- 
lions, weapons, &c, was interesting as well as valuable and 
extensive, comprising many that have been exhumed from 
ancient ruins, and antique relics, more or less connected with 
the history of the country. The Free National Gallery con- 
tains a noble collection of elegant pictures by eminent artists 
of old and modern times, and a fine statue of Burns. 

The ride up Salisbury Crags to the eminence known as 
Arthur's Seat, which rises behind Holyrood eight hundred 
feet high, is one of the great attractions to the tourist ; the 
drive to it by the fine carriage road, known as "Queen's 
Drive," is delightful, and the view of the city and surrounding 
country from the elevated road very picturesque. There is a 
romantic little path here, on Salisbury Crags, running by the 



SCOTT AND SCOTLAND. 61 

ruins of St. Anthony's Chapel, that Walter Scott used to 
walk when working out the plot of some of his novels, and 
the now broad road was then but a winding path up the 
crags ; the chapel, it will be remembered, figures in the Heart, 
of Mid-Lothian. 

The elegant monument, nearly in front of the Royal Hotel, 
in the Princes Street Gardens, erected in memory of "Walter 
Scott, and known as the Scott Monument, is familiar to most 
American readers, from engravings. It is a splendid Gothic 
tower, and said to be "a recollection of the architectural 
beauties of Melrose Abbey." 

I cannot help reflecting here, in the native land of Scott, 
what the present generation owes to him for preserving the 
history, traditions, and romance of their country to undying 
fame; for investing them with new interest to the whole 
civilized world; for strengthening Scottish national traits, 
inculcating new pride to preserve the relics of their bravery 
and noble deeds among all classes, high and low. 

Thousands and thousands of the Scotch people are to-day 
indebted to the labors of this indefatigable, industrious, and 
wonderful man for their daily bread. I have been through 
enormous publishing houses here, or, I might more appropri- 
ately style them, vast book factories, where editions of his 
works, in every conceivable style, are issued. Year after year 
the never-tiring press throws off the same sheets, and yet the 
public are unsatisfied, and call for more ; new readers step 
yearly into the ranks vacated by those who went before them ; 
and the rattle of the press readily beats to quarters, each sea- 
son, a fresh army of recruits. 

The poems, couplets, pictures, carved relics, guide-books, 
museums, ruins, &c, which his magic pen has made profitable 
property, are something marvellous. Fashions of brooches, 
jewelry, plaids, dress, and ornaments to-day owe their popu- 
larity to ltis pen, and what would be forgotten ruins, nameless 
huts, or uninviting wastes, it has made the Meccas of travel- 
lers from all nations. 

As an illustration of the latter fact, I met a man upon the 



62 HAWTHOKHDEN. 

battlements of Edinburgh Castle, from Cape Town, Africa, 
whose parents were Scotch, but who for years had been an 
exile, who in far distant countries had read Scott's Waverley 
novels and Scott's poems till the one wish of his heart was to 
see old Scotland and those scenes with which the Wizard of 
the North had inflamed his imagination, and who now, at fifty 
years of age, looked upon his native land the first time since, 
when a boy of eight years, he 

" ran about the braes, 
And pu'd the gowans fine." 

He was now realizing the enjoyment he had so many years 
longed for, — looking upon the scenes he had heard his father 
tell and his mother sing of, enjoying the reward of many 
years of patient toil, made lighter by the anticipation of visit- 
ing the home of his fathers ; and I was gratified to find that, 
unlike the experiences of many who are so long in exile, the 
realization of his hopes was " all his fancy painted " it, and he 
enjoyed all with a keen relish and enthusiastic fervor. 

It is a pleasant seven mile ride from Edinburgh out to Ross- 
lyn Castle, and the way to go is to take Hawthornden, as 
most tourists do, en route. This place — a delightful, roman- 
tic old ivy-covered mansion — is perched upon a high precipice, 
eighty or one hundred feet above the River Esk (" where ford 
there was none"), in a most dehghtfully romantic position, 
commanding a view of the little stream in its devious wind- 
ings in the deep, irregular gully below ; the gardens and walks, 
for a mile about and above the river, are charmingly rural and 
tastefully arranged. One can well imagine that Drummond, 
the Scottish poet and historian, the friend of Shakespeare 
Ben J onson, and Drayton, drew inspiration from this charm 
ing retreat. Johnson is said to have walked all the way from 
London to make a visit here. 

Under the mansion we visited a series of curious caves, 
nollow r ed from the solid rock, and connected with each other 
by dark and narrow passages, very much like those sub- 
terranean passages told of in old-fashioned novels, as existing 



EOSLIN CHAPEL. 03 

beneath old castles. One of these rocky chambers had a little 
window cut through its side, half concealed by ivy, but coiu 
manding a view of the whole glen. Here, the guide told us, 
Robert Bruce hid for a long time from his enemies ; and I 
was prepared to hear that this was the scene of the celebrated 
spider anecdote of the story-books. We got no such informa- 
tion, but were showm a long, two-handed sword, however, said 
to have belonged to the Scottish king, which I took pleasure 
in giving a brandish above my head, to the infinite disgust 
of the guide, who informed me, after I had laid clown this for- 
midable weapon, that visitors were not allowed to handle it. 

It may be as well to state that the authenticity of this 
sword, and also the correctness of the story that Bruce ever 
hid there, are questioned. One of the chambers has regular 
shelves, like book-shelves, cut in the rock, and this is styled 
Brace's Library. Passing out into the grounds of the house, 
we descended, by a pretty rustic pathway, to the valley, and 
along by the side of the Esk River, which babbled over its 
rocky bed at our feet. If this Esk is the same one that 
Young Lochinvar swam, he did not accomplish anything to 
boast of; for during a walk of over two miles at its side, I 
saw no part over twenty feet wide, and no very dangerous 
depth or current. 

Our romantic walk brought us to the rains of Rosslyn 
Castle, but little of which remains, except a triple tier ol 
vaults and some masses of masonry, its position being on a 
sort of peninsular rock, overhanging the picturesque glen of 
the Esk we had just traversed ; and the massive stone bridge 
which spans the ravine forms the only connection between 
the opposite bank and the castle. 

Rosslyn Chapel, or Roslin, — for they spell it both ways here, 
— was founded by William, the third earl of Orkney, in 1446, 
who had conferred on him by James II. the office of Grand Mas- 
ter of the Scottish Freemasons, which continued hereditary w 
the family of his descendants till 1736, when it was resigned 
into the hands of the Scottish Lodges. The chapel is out' 
of the most elaborately decorated specimens of architecture 



64 MASONIC DECORATIONS. 

in the kingdom, and, besides its celebrity in history, ana 
the interest that Scott has invested it with, is a building of 
peculiar interest to members of the fraternity of Freemasons. 
It is impossible to designate the architecture by any familiar 
term; it is distinguished, however, by its pointed Gothic 
arches and a profusion of ornament, the interior being a 
wonder of decoration in stone carving, particularly the pillars, 
which are pointed out to the visitor as its chief wonders, and 
some of which bear the mark master mason's " mark." 

The interior of the chapel is divided into a centre and two 
side aisles, and the two rows of clustered pillars which sup- 
port the roof are only eight feet in height. The capitals of 
these pillars are decorated with the most beautifully chis- 
elled foliage, running vines, and ornaments, and on the friezes 
masonic brethren are represented feeding the hungry, clothing 
the naked, visiting the sick, &c. ; there are also a number of 
allegorical figures, representing the seven deadly sins. 

But the marvel of the whole is the Apprentices' Pillar, 
which, according to the familiar legend, was left unfinished by 
the master mason, while he went to Rome to study designs 
to enable him to perfect it in a suitable manner. During his 
absence, an "entered apprentice," fired with ambition, com- 
pleted it after designs of his own, which so enraged the mas- 
ter on his return, that, in a fit of rage, he killed him with a 
blow on the head with a setting-maul. The pillar is a clus- 
tered column, surrounded by an exquisitely-wrought wreath 
of flowers, running from base to capital, the very poetry of 
carving. Above this pillar is the following inscription : — 

Jorte est fotnum, fotttor est rex, tottfores sunt nralfcres ; 
super omnia btnrft berttas. 

Which is, " Wine is strong, the king is stronger, women are 
strongest ; above all things, truth conquers." 

We stood upon the ponderous slab that was the door to 
the vault beneath, in which slumber the barons of Roslin, all 
of whom, till the time of James VI., were buried uncofliued, 



MELROSE. 65 

but in complete armor — helm, corselet, and gauntlets. Scott's 
familiar lines came to mind, — 

" Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie, 
Each baron, for a sable shroud, 
Sheathed in his iron panoply." 

It seems, however, that some of the descendants of the 
"barons" had a more modern covering than then* "iron 
panoply;" for, about two years ago, upon the death of an 
old earl, it was decided to bury him in this vault ; and it was 
accordingly opened, when two huge coffins were found at the 
very entrance, completely blocking it up, and which would 
have broken in pieces in the attempt to move them. The 
present earl, therefore, ordered the workmen to close the old 
vault, and his father's remains were interred in a new one in 
the chancel, built about eighty years ago, where the inscrip- 
tion above his remains tells us that " James Alexander, third 
Earl, died 16th June, 1866." 

Bidding adieu to this exqoisite little building, we will take 
a glance at another, or rather the ruins of another, that owes 
much of its fame also to the interest with which Walter 
Scott has invested it — one which he loved to visit, and much 
of whose beautiful architectural ornamentation he caused to 
be copied into his own Abbotsford. I refer to Melrose Ab- 
bey; and, as no tourist ever thinks of leaving Scotland with- 
out seeing it, a sketch of our visit may possibly be but a new 
version of an oft-told story ; but now that I have seen it, 
I am never tired of thinking and reading of its wondrous 
beauty. 

Melrose is thirty-five miles from Edinburgh by rail ; and on 
arrival at the station, we were at once pounced upon by a 
number of drivers of vehicles in waiting, who were desirous 
of securing us, or of having us secure them, for a drive to 
Melrose Abbey, Abbotsford, or Dryburg Abbey, and if we 
had not been cautioned, we should have been warned by a 
sard which was thrust into my hand, and which I give for the 
benefio of other tourists who may go that way, infoiming 
5 



66 THE A.BBEY HOTEL. 

them that the " Abbey Hotel," herein mentioned, is less than 
five minutes' walk from the little railroad station. 

" The Abbey Hotel, Abbey Gate, Melrose. 

" This hotel is situated upon the abbey grounds, and at the entrance 
to the 'far-famed ruins.' Parties coming to the hotel, therefore, are 
cautioned against being imposed upon by cab-drivers at the railroad sta- 
tion and elsewhere, as this is the only house which commands the views 
of Melrose Abbey. 

"An extensive addition having been lately built to this establishment, 
consisting of suites of sitting and bed-rooms, it is now the largest and 
moat handsome hotel in Melrose. 

" One-horse carriage to Abbotsford and back 6s. 6d. 

" " to Dryburg and back ....... 7s. 6d. 

" These charges include everything." 

Upon the reverse we were treated to a pictorial representa 
tion of this "most handsome hotel," an unpretending, two- 
story mansion, which, we were informed, was kept by Archi- 
bald Hamilton, who also kept various "horses, gigs, and 
phaetons for hire ; wines and foreign and British spirits for 
sale." A rush of twenty visitors would have overrun the 
" establishment," to which " an extensive addition " had been 
made. The Abbey Hotel was a comfortable Euglish inn, and 
we found, on arriving at it, that it almost joined on to the very 
abbey itself; while another little building, the dwelling of the 
widow and two daughters who showed the rums, as we found, 
for a consideration, was close by — too close, it seemed to us, 
to this glorious old structure, which, even in its ruins, is an ob- 
ject of universal admiration, its magnificence and gracefulness 
entitling it to be ranked as one of the most perfect works of 
the best age of this description of ecclesiastical architecture. 

Melrose was built in 1146, destroyed by the English in 
1322, and rebuilt with two thousand potmds sterling, given by 
Robert Bruce, in 1326 — a sum of money equal to about fifty 
thousand pounds at the present time. So much for its histo 
ry. But let us pay the soxton's pretty daughter her shilling 
for here she is with the key that unlocks the modern iron-rail 
ing gate that excludes strangers who do not pay for the privi 



MELROSE ABBEY. 67 

lege i and following her a few steps, we are in the midst of 
the grand and glorious ruins of the old abbey that we are 
familiar with in song and story, and from the many counter- 
feit presentments that we have, time and again, gazed upon in 
luxurious illustrated bookf , or upon the walls of art galleries 
at home. • 

" The darkened roof rose high aloof, 
On pillars lofty, light, and small ; 
The key-stone that locked each ribbed aisle 
Was a fleur-de-lis, or a quatre-feuille. 
The corbels were carved grotesque and grim, 
And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim, 
With base and with capital nourished around, 
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound." 

As we came into the midst of this glorious old structure, 
we actually stood silent for some time, so filled were we with 
admiration at its wondrous beauty. To be sure, the blue arch 
of the heavens is now its only roof, and from the shattered 
walls rooks or jackdaws fly noisily overhead; but, then, tho 
majestic sweep of the great Gothic arches, that vista of beau- 
ty, a great Gothic aisle still standing, fifty feet long, and sixty 
feet from floor to key-stone, the superb columns, and the innu- 
merable elegant carvings on every side, the graves of monarch, 
knight, and wizard, marked with their quaint, antique inscrip- 
tions at your feet, and 

"The cloister galleries small, 
Which at mid height thread the chancel wall," 

all form a scene of most charming and beautiful effects. 

And we stood there, with the blue sky looking in through 
the shattered arches, the noisy rooks flying hither and thither 
on their morning calls, the turf, soft, green, and springy, 
sprinkled here and there with wild flowers, in the centre of 
the ruin, while festoons of ivy waved in the breeze, like tapes- 
try hung about the shattered windows and crumbling columns. 

Here was the place, and the day was one of those quiet, 
dreamy spiing days, on which tourists could sit 

" Them down on a marble stone," 



68 AN ARCHITECTURAL P0ESI. 

and read bold Deloraine's visit to the wizard's grave, as de- 
scribed by Scott in the Lay of the Last Minstrel. And here 
is his grave, an unpoetical-looldng place enough now, and 
perhaps less wonderful since Branksome's knight wrenched it 
open, and took away the magic volume from Michael Scott's 
dead clasp. Here is the spot where Robert Bruce's heart was 
buried ; here the grave of the Earl of Douglas, " the dark 
Knight of Liddesdale," and of Douglass, the hero of Chevy 
Chase ; while quaint and Latin inscriptions on the walls and 
the time-worn slabs record the resting-place of once proud, 
but now extinct families and forgotten heroes, all now one 
common dust. 

We must not forget the great windows of the abbey, more 
especially the east window. I write it in large letters, for 
it is an architectural poem, and it will live in my memory as a 
joy forever, it is such a thing of beauty. The lightness of its 
proportions and beauty of its tracery at once impress the be- 
holder ; and all around the sides and above it are quaint and 
wonderfully-executed sculptures in the stone-work — statues, 
chain and crown ; figures on carved pedestals, beneath cano- 
pies of wrought stone, while wreaths and sculptured flowers 
are artistically wrought in various directions. 

The exterior of the abbey presents remarkable symmetry, 
and a profusion of embellishment in sculptured stone-work, 
and is built in the usual form of such structures — a Latin 
cross. The nave, in its present ruined condition, is two hun- 
dred and fifty-eight feet long, by seventy-nin« in breadth. The 
transept is one hundred and thirty feet long, and forty-four in 
breadth, which will give some idea of the size of these splen- 
did old edifices of the Romish church. The ornamental carv- 
ing, with which the whole edifice is so profusely decorated, 
would afford study for a month, and consists, besides delicately- 
chiselled flowers and plants, of grotesque and curious figures 
of monks, saints, nuns, demons, &c. 

Among other sculptures is that of a man seated cross- 
legged, upholding a pedestal on his shoulders, his features 
expressing pain at the heavy weight; a group of musician 



CABVING AND SCULPTURE. 69 

playing on various instruments and performing different 
antics ; a man with his head in his hand ; monks with ro- 
saries, cooks with knife and ladle, grinning heads, and women 
with faces veiled and busts displayed , effigies of the apostles, 
rosettes, ribbed work, bouquets of flowers, scallop shells, oak 
leaves, acorns, lilies and plants ; in fact, the faithfulness with 
which well-known plants have been represented by the 
sculptor has long been the subject of comment of the his- 
torian and antiquarian ; and "in this abbey," says an historian, 
"there are the finest lessons and the greatest variety of 
Gothic ornaments that the island affords, take all the reli- 
gious structures together." 

What must it have been when nave, and transept, and aisle 
were perfect, when the great windows were perfect glories of 
colored glass, the carvings fresh from the sculptor's chisel, 
and the chant of a hundred monks floated through the lofty 
arches ! In those times when these holy men gave their hearts 
and hands to the extending and embellishing of those tem- 
ples erected to the great Architect of the Universe, by that 
wonderful order of men, the Freemasons, and did it with an 
enthusiasm and taste which proved that they deemed a love 
of the beautiful not incompatible with the love of religion ! 
It was then that religious fervor expressed itself in grand 
creations, and all the arts of the age were controlled and 
made to contribute to the one great art of the age, Architec- 
ture, as evinced in these wondrous works of their hands that 
they have left behind — models of artistic skill and beauty un- 
excelled as yet by those who have come after them. 

Melrose Abbey is a place that I would have enjoyed spend- 
ing a week at instead of a single day, which was all too short 
for proper study and examination of the curious specimens 
of the sculptors' and builders' arts one encounters in every 
part of the ruins ; but we must up and away. 

A carnage to Abbotsford and back was chartered, and we 
were soon rattling over the pleasant road on our way to the 
home of Sir Walter Scott, about three miles distant. It is 
in some respects a curious structure, half country-seat, half- 



70 ABBOTSFORD. 

castle, "a romance oi stone and lime," as its owner used to 
call it. We did not catch sight of its castellated turrets, till, 
dri vdng down a slight declivity from the main road, we were 
at the very gate^ ; entering these, a beautiful walk of a hun- 
dred and fifty feet, along one aisle of the court-yard, and com- 
manding a fine view of a portion of the grounds, the garden 
front, led us to the house itself. 

At different points about the grounds and house are vari- 
ous stone antiquities, and curiosities gathered from old build- 
ings, which one must have a guide-book to explain. Melrose 
Abbey and the old city of Edinburgh appear to have been 
laid under contribution for these mementos — the door of 
the old Tollbooth from the latter, and a stone fountain, upon 
which stood the old cross of Edinburgh, being conspicuous 
objects. Abbotsford is a lovely place, and seems to be situ- 
ated in a sort of depression among the hills, and by them, in 
some degree, sheltered from any sweeping winds. Besides 
being of interest as the residence of Scott, it is a perfect 
museum of curiosities and relics identified with Scottish 
history. 

The entrance hall is richly panelled in oak taken from the 
palace of Dunfermline, and the roof with the same. All along 
the cornice of the roof of this hall are the coats of arms of 
the different clans of the Border, painted in colors, on small 
armorial shields, an inscription stating, — 

" fflym ue the coat armoires of the clanns atto chief men of 
name, infta fceeptt the mareftgs of Scotland in the aulo tome for 
the Egnge. 3Tteme men inere tftejj in their Defence. #00 them 
ocfenogt." 

Here are also three or four complete suits of tilting armor, 
set up and looking as though still occupied by the stem war 
riors who once owned them : one grasps a huge two-handed 
sword, captured at the battle of Bosworth Field ; another a 
broad claymore taken from the dead grasp of a Highlander, 
who fell with 

" His back to the field and his feet to the foe." 



CURIOUS RELICS. 71 

on the disastrous, field of Culloden ; the breastplates and 
trappings of two of Napoleon's celebrated French cuirassiers, 
whose resistless charge trampled down whole battalions, but 
who were swept from their saddles by hundreds, as these two 
were by the leaden hail of the English infantry squares at 
Waterloo. Here also were stout old lochaber axes, English 
steel maces, battle-axes, and other weapons, many with his- 
tories, and from the bloody fields whose horrors are a promi 
nent feature on the pages of history. 

But the most interesting rooms of all, to me, were the study 
and library of Sir Walter ; and among the most interesting 
relics were the plain, unpretending suit of clothes last worn 
by him, his walking-sticks, his shoes, and his pipes ; and in 
his study the writing-table at which he wrote, and the great 
leather-covered chair in which he sat. The library is quite a 
large apartment, some fifty or sixty feet in length, handsome- 
ly decorated, and with its deep, broad windows looking out 
upon the River Tweed. It is completely lined with books 
from floor to ceiling — in all, some twenty thousand. 

Here are also many curiosities ; among others, the silver 
urn presented by Lord Byron, which rests on a stand of 
porphyry ; Marie Antoinette's clock ; very curious and richly 
carved ebony arm-chairs, presented by George IV. ; a glass 
case contained Rob Roy McGregor's purse, a piece of Robert 
Bi-uce's coffin, a purse wrought by Joanna Baillie, a small 
case by Miss Martineau, two gold bees, each as big as a hen's 
egg, taken from Napoleon's carriage, a portfolio that once 
belonged to Napoleon, miniature portrait of Prince Charlie, 
v " Wha'll be King but Charlie ? "), snuff-box of George IV., the 
»eal of Mary, Queen of Scots, a little box from Miss Edge- 
tforth, and other relics and momentos. 

In the armory, among other curiosities, we saw the musket 
of that redoubtable outlaw Rob Roy, Claverhouse 's pistol, a 
sword that was given to the Marquis of Montrose by Charles 
i., James VI.'s hunting flask, pair of pistols found in Napo- 
teon's carriage at the battle of Waterloo, the armor of one of 
1 he old Scottish kings, General Monk's pistols, keys of the old 
follbooth, &a 



72 STIRLING CAS'lXtt. 

Among the more striking pictures upon the walls of the 
different rooms were the portrait of the head of Mary, Queen 
of Scots, upon a charger, said to have been taken a few hours 
after her execution, the sad, pale features of which haunted 
my imagination for many an hour afterwards. Then there 
were the stem, heavily-moulded features of Cromwell, Charles 
XII,. the lion of Sweden, and Claverhouse, Charles II., and a 
long-bearded old ancestor of Sir Walter's, who allowed hie 
beard to grow after the execution of Charles I. ; and a col- 
lection of original etchings by Turner and other artists, the 
designs for the "Provincial Antiquities of Scotland." But 
from all these we sauntered back reverentially to the little 
study, with its deep arm-chair, and its table and books of ref- 
erence, and its subdued light from the single window; for 
here was the great author's work-room. A garrulous guide 
and three or four curious friends allow a dreamer, however, 
no time for thought and reflection while there is sight-seeing 
to be done ; so we were escorted over a portion of the prettily 
laid-out grounds, and then took our leave, and our carriage, 
and soon left Abbotsford behind us. 

Edinburgh, Melrose, and Abbotsford seen, we must next 
have a look a Stirling Castle. So, after a ride of thirty-six 
miles from Edinburgh, we are eating the well-cooked mutton 
chops that they serve at the Golden Lion, in Stirling, and, 
after being duly fortified with good cheer, wend our way up 
through the steep streets to the castle on its rocky perch. 
This strong old castle, standing directly upon the brow of a 
precipitous rock, overlooks one of the most extended and 
beautiful landscapes in the kingdom — the beautiful vale of 
Menteith, the Highland mountains in the distance, Ben Lo- 
mond, Benvenue, Ben Lodi, and several other " Bens ; " the 
River Forth, winding its devious course through the fertile 
valley, the brown road, far below at our feet, running along to 
the faintly-marked ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey, and the 
little villages and arched bridges, form a charming view. 

The eye here takes in also, in this magnificent prospect, no 
less than twelve of Scotland's battle-fields, including one of 



STIRLING CASTLE. 73 

Wallace's fierce contests, and Bannockburn, where Bruce 
gained the independence of Scotland in 1314. 

James II. and James V. were born in Stirling; and I 
looked at the little narrow road which goes down behind the 
castle with some interest, when I was told it furnished King 
James V. the fictitious name, " Ballangeich," he was in -the 
habit of assuming when he went among his subjects in dis- 
guise. Theatre-goers will remember the play of the " Gude 
Man of Ballangeich," and the " King of the Commons," and 
that he was the king who was hero in those plays, and also 
the " James Fitz-James " of Scott's Lady of the Lake. And, 
speaking of the Lady of the Lake, the beautiful view from 
the battlements of Stirling Castle, three hundred feet above 
the valley, recalled Roderic Dhu's reply to James : — 

" Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I marked thee send delighted eye 
Far to the south and east, where lay, 
Extended in succession gay, 
Deep waving fields and pastures green, 
With gentle slopes and groves between; 
Those fertile fields, that softened vale, 
Were once the birthright of the Gael." 

The outer gates of the castle are said to have been built 
by the old Romans, and were strong enough for ancient bat- 
teries, but not for modern artillery. The marks of the can- 
non shot fired by General Monk when he attacked the 
castle, directing the whole fire of his artillery at one point 
till he battered down a portion of the wall, and the breach 
through which William Wallace entered, are points of inter- 
est. So was the dark, secure, stone cell into which we 
peeped, where Rob Roy is said to have been confined. 
The outer works of the castle were erected in Queen Anne's 
time, and that known as the Palace, built by James V. The 
little room known as the Douglas Room, with its adjoining 
closet, is one of the "lions" of the castle, for it was here that 
the Earl of Douglas — the " Black Douglas " — met King 
James II. under promise of safe conduct ; and after a fierco 



fA THE TOURNAMENT FIELD. 

discussion, in which the king vainly tried to induce him to 
abandon a compact he had made with other chiefs, he stabbed 
the earl, in a fit of passion. The nobles attendant on the 
king, concealed in the little antechamber, rushed in and com- 
pleted the murder, throwing the body from the window — . 
which is pointed out to us — into the garden beneath. 

Not far from the castle is the " Lady's Rock," a small hill 
from which the ladies of the Scottish court, and other favored 
ones, could look down upon the tournament field, a hundred 
feet below. And as we sat there, and looked upon the form 
of the lists, still visible upon the turf below, marked by the 
green ridges, it was easy to imagine what an animated and 
beautiful scene it must have presented when filled with 
knights and squires, steeds and men ; for it was here that 
James was forced to award Douglas the prize, as the victor 
in the feats of strength at the Scottish sports. 

"The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 
To strangers point the Douglas cast, 
And moralize on the decay 
Of Scottish strength in modern day." 

This beautiful vale has witnessed many a joust and tourna- 
ment. This vale at our feet, this "Lady's Rock," and the 
lady's seat, which makes for us a sort of rocky throne, as we 
sit here and muse on Scotland's history and Scotland's poet, 
are the very ones he speaks of as 

" The vale with loud applauses rang, 
The Lady's Rock sent back the clang." 

Near the Lady's Rock is a modern cemetery, beautifully 
laid out, and containing statues of Knox and Henderson, and 
other handsome monuments. The old churchyard of Gray- 
friars contains many curious monuments, and here, on an old 
sun-dial, I found this inscription : — 



" I mark time ; dost thou? 
I am a shadow ; so art thou.' 






FIELD OF BANNOCKBTJRN. 75 

It was in Grayfriars that James VI. was crowued, and 
Knox preached the coronation sermon. 

No tourist will think of leaving Stirling without taking a 
ride to the field of Bannockbum, a short distance. The scene 
of a battle which occurred more than five hundred and fifty 
years ago cannot be expected to preserve many features of 
its former character ; the only one which is of particular in- 
terest is the " Bore Stone," a fragment of rock with a small 
cavity, in which the Scottish standard is said to have been 
raised ; it is clamped all over with iron bars, to prevent relic- 
hunters from carrying what remains of it away. 

The story of the battle is one of the most familiar ones in 
Scottish history to both young and old readers, and your 
guide will indicate to you points where the Scotch and Eng- 
lish forces were disposed, where the concealed pits were 
placed into which plunged so many of the English cavalry, 
the point where Bruce stood to watch the battle, nay, the 
very place where 

" The monarch rode along the van, 
The foe's approaching force to scan," 

when Sir Henry Boune, thinking, as the Bruce was mounted 
on a slight palfrey, far in advance of his own line, to ride him 
down with his heavy war horse, set his lance in rest, and dashed 
out from the English fines with that intent. 

" He spurred his steed, he couched his lance, 
And darted on the Bruce at once," 

thinking to distinguish himself and have his name in history. 
He did so, but not in the manner, probably, he had anticipat- 
ed; for 

" While on the king, like flash of flame, 
Spurred to full speed, the war horse came! 
But swerving from the knight's career, 
Just as thoy met, Bruce shunned the spear. 

High in his stirrups stood the king, 
And gave his hattle-axe the swing; 



7U THE TARTAN ARRAY - , 

Such strength upon the blow was put, 
The helmet cracked like hazel-nut ; " 

and so began the battle of Bannockburn, which ended in the 
defeat of one hundred thousand English by thirty thousand 
Scots, raising Bruce from a hunted rebel to the rank of an 
independent sovereign. It was the most important battle 
the Scots ever won, and the most severe defeat the English 
ever experienced in Scotland. 

Another pleasant little excursion was a walk to Cambus 
kenneth Abbey, crossing the River Forth by an old ferry, 
where we had to hail the feny-man from the other side. Wo 
did not have to say, — 

" Boatman, do not tarry ! 
And I'll give thee a silver pound 
To row us o'er the ferry," — 

for the old fellow came over, rowed three of us across, and 
demanded three half -pence for the service ; so we were liberal, 
and gave him double fare. The only part of the abbey re- 
maining is a Gothic tower, and a few remnants of walls, and 
the foundation lines of nave and transept, which are visible. 
A few years ago, when some excavations were being made 
here, the site of the high altar was found, and beneath it the 
supposed coffin and skeleton of James III. They were re- 
interred, and a handsome square sarcophagus marks the spot, 
bearing an inscription, which tells the visitor that Queen 
Victoria erected it in 1861, in memory of hex ancestors. 

While at Stirling we had the opportunity of seeing a real 
Highland regiment, who were quartered there, in their pic- 
turesque, unmilitary dress, — kilt, bare legs, plaid stockings 
crown of feathers, &c, — a most uncomfortable and inconven 
lent dress for service in the field, I should imagine. I also 
had an opportunity of hearing native Scotch songs, sung by 
a Scotch minstrel, as I never heard them sung before. It 
was a still, quiet moonlight night, in one of the streets, and 
the wandering minstrel accompanied himself on a Violin. I 
never heard ballad-singing better or more effectively ren- 



LADY OF THE LAKE SCENES. 77 

dered. The singer's voice was a pure, flexible tenur, and as 
he sung, "Flow gently, sweet Aft on," there was hardly a 
finger moved in the crowd that stood about him ; but when 
he gave a pathetic Scotch ballad, in which the tear was in 
his voice, he brought it into the eye of more than one of his 
auditors ; and the hearty manner in which many a poor, 
ragged fellow crowded up to give him a ha'penny at the 
close, showed how deeply they were touched, and how grate- 
ful they felt towards one who could interpret their national 
melodies so well. 

From Stirling we will make a detour through that charm- 
ing scenery of Scotland which Scott so frequently mentions 
in his Lady of the Lake, especially in the ride of Fitz-James 
after the stag, which at eve had " drunk his fill," 

" Where danced the moon on Monan's rill." 

But first an unromantic railroad ride of sixteen miles must 

be taken ; and not unromantic, either, for there are many 

pleasant spots and points of historic interest on the route, — 

the Bridge of Allan, a pleasant village, which is a popular 

watering-place not far from Stirling, being one; — through 

Donne, 

"The bannered towers of Donne," 

and on by the rippling stream of the River Forth. 

" They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 
Dark Forth, within thy sluggish tides." 

And we might go on with half the poem in the same manner, 
such is the charm which Scott's poetry has lent to this part 
of the country. 

At the rugged-looking little stone-built town of Callander 
we left the train, and climbed into a sort of open wagon stage- 
coach, similar to those sometimes used at the White Moun- 
tains, which held sixteen of us, and had a spanking team 
driven by an expert English "whip;" and we were whirled 
away, for a ride of twenty miles or more, through the lake 



78 REAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 

country and " the Trossachs " to Loch Katrine. The word 
" trossachs," I was told by a communicative Scotchman, signi- 
fied "bristles," and the name was suggested by the species 
of coarse furze which abounds in the passes of this rough and 
hilly country. The wild mountain scenery reminded me often 
of our own White Mountains ; and the reaches of view, though 
giving pretty landscape scenes, showed a country rather sterile 
for the husbandman — better to shoot over than plough over. 
At last we reached a little sort of hollow in the hills, where 
Lake Vennachar narrows down to the River Teith, and came 
to where the stream swept round a little grassy point of land ; 
and here our coach stopped a moment for us to look, — 

" For this is Coilantogle Ford," — 

which, it will be recollected, was 

" Far past Clan Alpine's outmost guard," 

and the scene of the combat between Fitz-James and Roderic 
Dhu. "And there," said an old Scotchman, pointing to the 
little grassy peninsula, " is the very place where the fight took ■ 
place " — a borrowed stretch of the imagination, inasmuch as 
the poet himself imagined the combat. 

But we whirled away past Yennachar, mounted a littlt 
eminence, from whence we had a grand panoramic view 
of hills, lake, road, and river, with Benvenue rising in the 
background ; and as we rattled down the hill the road swept 
round with a curve near to a little village that I recognized 
at once from the pictures in illustrated editions of Scott's 
poems — Duncraggan's huts, one of the points at which the 
bearer of the fiery cross paused on his journey to raise the 

clans. 

" Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past. 
Duncraggan's huts appear at last." 

And passing this, we soon rolled over a little single-arched 
bridge — the bridge of Turk. 

" And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
The headmost horseman rode alone." 



SCOTCH LAKES AND HILLS. 79 

Ou over the Brigg of Turk, past Loch Achray, and we 
jome to the Trossachs Hotel, commanding a good view of the 
black -looking " loch," and the rocky peak of Ben A'an. Be- 
tween this point and Loch Katrine, a mile, are the " Tros- 
sachs." All the drives and scenery in the immediate vicinity 
are delightful ; and the hotel, which is a fine castellated build- 
ing, must be a most pleasant place for summer resort. 

Embarking upon a little steamer named Rob Roy, on Loch 
Katrine, we sail close by Ellen's Isle, and sweep out into the 
middle of the lake — a lovely sheet of water, and reminding 
the American tourist of Lake George. A delightful sail on 
this lake carried us to Stronachlachar. There we disembark, 
and take carriage again through the valley to Loch Lomond, 
passing on the road the hut in which Helen McGregor, Rob 
Roy's wife, was born, and also a fort built to check the incur- 
sions of the McGregors, and at one time commanded by Gen- 
eral Wolfe — the same who afterwards fell at the capture of 
Quebec. Then, descending to Inversnaid, we came to Loch 
Lomond, with the dark mountains looking down upon its 
waters. 

That there is some wind among these Scotch hills we had 
ample opportunity of ascertaining; for so furiously did the 
gusts pour down upon the lake, that they lashed it into foam- 
capped waves, and sent the sheets of spray so liberally over 
the boat as to make us glad to contemplate this pride of the 
Scottish lakes, its hills, and thirsty islands from the cabin 
windows. Disembarking once more at Balloch, situated at 
the southern extremity of the lake, the train was in waiting 
which took us to Glasgow, passing Dumbarton on our route, 
and ginng us a fine view of Dumbarton Castle, situated upon 
the two high peaks of Dumbarton Rock, five hundred and 
sixty feet high, and noted as being the place of confinement 
of William Wallace. The highest peak of the rock is called 
Wallace's Seat, from this circumstance. 



60 GLASGOW CATHEDRAL. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Glasgow Cathedral, situated on the highest ground in 
the metropolis of Scotland, looks over the spires, domes, and 
crowded masonry of a city of half a million inhabitants. A 
view from its tower, over two hundred feet in height, takes in 
the valley of the River Clyde, with woods, and hedges, and 
pleasant meadows, and the river itself rolling on its way to- 
wards the ocean. The Renfrewshire Hills, the neighboring 
town of Paisley, Dumbarton Rock, and the Argyleshire 
Mountains, and a ruin or two, with the waving ivy, green 
upon the shattered walls, complete the distant picture ; while 
spread beneath, at our very feet, is the busy city itself, with 
its factories, its furnaces, and great masses of high-storied 
houses, and stretching along by the water side the great quay 
wall of fifteen thousand feet in length, with vessels ranged 
two or three abreast before it. 

This fine old cathedral is an elegant Gothic structure, and 
was built in 1136. It is remarkable from being one of the 
few churches in Scotland that have been preserved in a com- 
paratively perfect state, and its annals for the past seven hun- 
dred years have been well preserved and authenticated ; but 
with these I must have but little to do, for once immersed in 
the curious records of these old ecclesiastical edifices, so cele- 
brated in history, and so wondrous in architectural beauty, 
and we shall get on all too slowly among the sights and 
scenes in foreign lands. 

The grand entrance to the Glasgow Cathedral is at the great 
doorway at one end of the nave, and we enter a huge church, 
three hundred and nineteen feet long by about sixty wide, 
divided by a splendid screen, or rood loft, as it is called, sepa- 
rating the nave from the choir, that most sacred part of the 
Roman Catholic edifices, where the principal altars were 



VESTIGES OF VANDALISM. fcl 

erected, and high mass was performed. The carving and 
ancient decoration here are in a fine state of preservation, and 
the majestic columns which support the main arches, with 
their beautifully-cut foliage d capitals of various designs, are 
an architectural triumph. 

The crypts beneath this cathedral are in an excellent state 
of preservation, and at one time were used for purposes of 
worship. In Catholic times these old ciypts were used for 
the purposes of sepulture for jDrelates and high dignitaries 
of the church; but nearly all traces of the monuments of 
these worthies were swept away in the blind fury which char- 
acterized the Reformation in its destruction of " monuments 
of idolatry ; " and so zealous, or, we may now say, fanatical, 
were the Reformers, that they swept to swift destruction 
some of the finest architectural structures in the land, and 
monuments erected to men who had been of benefit to their 
race and generation, in one general ruin. The tourist, as he 
notes the mutilation of the finest works of architectural skill, 
and the almost total destruction of exquisite sculpture and 
historical monuments, which he constantly encounters in these 
ecclesiastical buildings, finds himself giving utterance to ex- 
pressions anything but flattering to the perpetrators of this 
vaudalism. 

An effigy of a bishop, with head struck off and otherwise 
mutilated, is now about all of note that remains of the monu- 
ments here in the crypt. It is supposed to be the effigy of 
Jocline, the founder of this part of the cathedral, which is 
about one hundred and thirty feet in length, and sixty-five 
wide, with five rows of columns of every possible form, from 
simple shaft to those of elaborate design, supporting the 
structure above. The crypts are, it is said, the finest in the 
kingdom. But the great wonder of Glasgow Cathedral is its 
stained-glass windows, which are marvels of modern work, for 
they were commenced in 1859, and completed in 1864, and 
are some of the finest specimens of painted-glass work that 
the Royal Establishment of Glass Painting, in Munich, has 
ever produced. 

6 



82 BIBLE STORIES IN COLORED GLASS. 

These windows are over eighty in number ; but forty-four 
of them are great windows, twenty-five or thirty feet high, 
and each one giving a Bible story in pictures. The subjects 
begin with the Expulsion from Paradise, and continue on in 
regular order of Bible chronology. Besides these are coats of 
arms of the different donors of windows, in a circle of colored 
glass at the base, as each was given by some noted person or 
family, and serves as a memento of relatives and friends who 
are interred in the cathedral or its necropolis. Besides the 
leading events of biblical history, from the Old Testament 
portrayed, such as Noah's Sacrifice, Abraham offering Isaac, 
the Offer of Marriage to Rebekah, the Blessing of Jacob, 
the Finding of Moses, &c, there are figures of the apostles, 
the prophets, illustrations of the parables of our Saviour, and 
other subjects from the Holy Scriptures, all beautifully exe- 
cuted after designs by eminent artists. 

But space will not permit further description of this mag- 
nificent building. Scott says this is " the only metropolitan 
church, except the Cathedral Kirkwall, in the Orkneys, that 
remained uninjured at the Reformation." It owes its preser- 
vation from destruction somewhat to the fact that James Ra- 
bat, who was Dean of Guild when its demolition was clamored 
for, was a good Mason, and saved this work of the masters' 
art by suffering the " idolatrous statues " of saints to be de- 
stroyed on condition of safety to the building. 

At the rear of the cathedral rises the Necropolis, a bold, 
semicircular eminence, some three hundred feet in height, and 
formed in regular terraces, which are divided into walks, and 
crowded with elegant and costly modern monuments; too 
crowded, in fact, and reminding one more of a sculpture gal- 
lery than a cemetery. Among the most conspicuous of these 
monuments was a fine Corinthian shaft and statue to John 
Knox, and on the shaft was inscribed, — 

" When laid in the ground, the regent said, ' There lieth he vrh't 
never feared the face of man, who was often threatened with dag and 
dagger, yet hath ended his days in peace and honor.' " 



Tta actor's epitaph. 83 

A magnificent square sarcophagus, erected to James Sheri- 
dan Knowles, bore his name. 

" Died November, 1862." 

A fine monument to John Dick, Professor of Theology and 
Minister of Grayfriars Church, Edinburgh ; another to Wil- 
liam McGarvin, author of the "Protestant." One erected to a 
favorite Scotch comedian attracted my attention from the ap- 
propriateness of its design and epitaph. The designs were 
elegantly-cut figures of Comedy and Tragedy, in marble, a me- 
dallion head in bass-relief, probably a likeness of the deceased, 
and the mask, bowl, and other well-known emblems of the 
histrionic art. The epitaph was as follows : — 

" Fallen is the curtain ; the last scene is o'er, 
The favorite actor treads life's stage no more. 
Oft lavish plaudits from the crowd he drew, 
And laughing eyes confessed his humor true. 
Here fond affection rears this sculptured stone, 
For virtues not enacted, but his own — 
A constancy unshaken unto death, 
A truth unswerving, and a Christian's faith. 
Who knew him best have cause to mourn him most; 
O, weep the man more than the actor lost. 
Unnumbered parts he played, yet to the end 
His best were those of husband, father, friend." 

The deceased's name was John Henry Alexander, who died 
December 15, 1851. 

From Glasgow we took rail to Ayr, on a pilgrimage to 
Bnrns's birthplace, and, at five o'clock of a pleasant afternoon, 
arrived at that little Scotch town, and as we rode through 
the streets, passed by the very tavern where " Tarn O'Shan- 
ter " held his revel with " Souter Johnny" — a clean little squat 
stone house, indicated by a big sign-board, on which is a pic- 
torial representation of Tarn and his crony sitting together, 
and enjoying a "wee drapit" of something from handled 
mugs, which they are holding out to each other, and, judging 
from the size of the mugs, not a "wee drapit" either ; for the old 



84 tam o'shanter's ride. 

Scotsmen who frequent these taverns will carry off, without 
winking, a load beneath their jackets that would floor a stout 
man of ordinary capacity. 

A queer old town is Ayr, and at the hotel above mentioned 
the curious tourist may not only sit in the chairs of Tarn and 
Johnny, but in that Bums himself has pressed ; and if he gets 
the jolly fat old landlord in good humor, — as he is sure to get 
v hen Americans order some of his best "mountain dew," — and 
engages him in conversation, he may have an opportunity to 
drink it from the very wooden cup, now hooped with silver, from 
which the poet himself indulged in potations, and drained in- 
spiration. 

As we ride over the road from the town of Ayr — 

" Auld Ayr, whom ne'er a town surpasses 
For honest men and bonnie lasses " — 

to Burns's birthplace, and Alloway Kirk, we find ourselves 
upon the same course traversed by Tarn O'Shanter on his 
memorable ride, and passing many of those objects which, for 
their fearful associations, gave additional terror to the journey, 
and kept him 

" glowering round wi' prudent cares, 
Lest bogles catch him unawares." 

A pleasant ride we had of it, recalling the verses, as each 
point mentioned in the ballad, which is such a combination 
of the ludicrous and awful, came into view and was pointed 
out to us. 

" The ford 
Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored, 
And past the birks and meikle stane, 
Whare drunken Charlie braks neck-bane ; 
And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn; 
And near the thorn aboon the well, 
Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel." 

But let us stop at the poet's cottage — the little one-story 
"clay-biggin" it originally was, when, in 1759, Robert Burns 
was born there, consisting only of a kitchen and sitting-room ; 



SEElJSii ROBERT BURNS' COTTAGE. 85 

these still remain, and in a little recess in the former is a sort 
of hunk, or bed, where the poet first saw light ; that is, what, 
little of it stole in at the deep-set window of this little den ; 
additional rooms have been built on to the cottage, including 
a large one for society meetings and anniversary dinners ; the 
little squat thatched cot is the Mecca of thousands of travel- 
lers from all parts of the world, as the visitors' book reveals. 

An old Scotch woman, who was busy with her week's iron- 
ing, left her work, for a few moments, to show us the rooms 
and sell a stereoscopic view, and then returned to her flat 7 
irons. An old fellow, named "Miller" Goudie, and his wife, 
used to occupy the cot. . He now rests in Alloway church- 
yard, and, as his epitaph says, — 

" For forty years it was his lot 
To show the poet's humble cot; 
And, sometimes laughin', sometimes sobbin', 
Told his last interview with Robin : 
A quiet, civil, blithesome body, 
Without a foe, was Miller Goudie." 

A framed autograph letter of Burns, and a picture of him 
at a masonic assembly, adorn the walls of the large room, and 
are about all of interest in it. A short distance beyond the 
cottage, and we come to "Alio way's auld haunted Kirk," — a 
little bit of a Scotch church, with only the walls standing, 
and familiar to us from the many pictures we had seen of it. 

Here it was that Tarn saw the witches dance ; and there 
must have been the very window, just high enough for him to 
have looked in from horseback : just off from the road is the 
kirk, and near enough for Tarn to have seen the light through 
the chinks, and hear the sound of mirth and dancing. Of 
coarse I marched straight up to the little window towards 
the road, and peeped in at the very place where Tam had 
viewed the wondrous sight; but such narrow and circum- 
scribed limits for a witches' dance ! Why, Nannie's leap and 
fling could not have been much in such a wee bit of a chapel, 
and I expressed that opinion audibly, with a derisive laugh at 
Scotch witches, when, as if to punish scepticism, the bit of 



86 A REMINDER PROM THE WITCHES. 

stone which I had propped up against the wall to give me 
additional height, slipped from beneath my feet, bringing my 
chin in sharp contact with the window-sill, and giving me 
such a shock altogether, that I wondered if the witches were 
not still keeping guard over the old place, for it looks weird 
enough, with its gray, roofless walls, the dark ivy about them 
flapping in the breeze, and the inteiior choked with weeds 
and rubbish. 

In the little burial-ground of the kirk is the grave of the 
poet's father, marked by a plain tombstone, and bearing an 
epitaph written by Burns. Leaving the kirk, a few hundred 
vards' walk brings us to 

" The banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," 

and the " auld brigg " spanning it, over which Tarn O'Shan- 
ter's mare Maggie, clattered just in time to save him from the 
witch's vengeance, losing her tail in the struggle on the 
" keystane." The keystone was pointed out to us by a little 
Scotch lassie, as we stood on the bridge, admiring the swift 
stream, as it whirled under the arches, and the old Scotch 
guide told us "Tarn had eight mair miles to gang ere he 
stopit at his own door-stane." 

Near this bridge is the Burns Monument, a sort of circular 
structure, about sixty feet high, of Grecian architecture. In 
a circular apartment within the monument is a glass case, 
containing several relics, the most interesting of which is the 
Bible given by Burns to his Highland Mary. It is bound in 
two volumes, and on the fly-leaf of the first is inscribed the 
following text, in the poet's handwriting : " And ye shall not 
swear by my name falsely ; I am the Lord." (Levit. xix. 12. 
And on the leaf of the second, " Thou shalt not forswear thy- 
self, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths." (Matt. 
v. 33.) In both volumes the poet has inscribed his autograph, 
and in one of them there rests a little tress of Highland 
Mary's hair. 

The grounds — about an acre in extent around the monu 
ment — are prettily laid out, and in a little building, at one 



"BONNIE J>OON." 87 

extremity, are the original, far-famed figures of Tarn O'Shanter 
and Souter Johnny, chiselled out of solid freestone by the 
self taught sculptor Thom; and marvellously well-executed 
figures they are, down to the minutest details of hose and 
bonnet, as they sit with their mugs of good cheer, jollily 
pledging each other. This group, and that of Tarn riding 
over the bridge, with the witch just catching at Maggie's tail, 
are both familiar to almost every American family, and owe 
their familiarity, in more than one instance, to the representa- 
tions of them upon the cheap little pitchers of Wedgwood 
ware, which are so extensively used as syrup pitchers whei 
ever buckwheat cakes are eaten. 

The ride back to Ayr, by a different route, carries us past 
some pleasant country-seats, the low bridge of Doon, and a 
lovely landscape all about us. 

But we visited the classic Doon, with its banks and braes 
so " fresh and fair," as most of our countrymen do — did it in a 
day, dreamed and imagined for an hour in the little old church- 
yard of Kirk Alloway, leaned over the auld brig, and looked 
down into the running waters, and wondered how often the 
poet had gazed at it from the same place, or sauntered on 
that romantic little pathway by its bank, where we plucked 
daisies, and pressed them between the leaves of a pocket 
edition of his poems, as mementos of our visit. We did not 
omit a visit to the "twa brigs" that span the Ayr. The 
auld brig, — 

" Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet," - 

was erected in the fourteenth century, and was formerly steep 
and narrow, but has been widened and improved within the 
past fifteen years. The new one, which is about two hundred 
yards from it, was built in 1788, and from it a good view of 
the river and the old bridge is obtained. 

A ride round the town shows us but little of special interest. 
to write of; a fine statue of William Wallace, cut by Thom, in 
front of a Gothic building, known as Wallace Tower, being 
the most striking object that met our view. From Ayr to 



88 NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE. 

Carlisle, where we saw the castle which Bruce failed to take 
in 1312, which surrendered to Prince Charles Stuart in 
1745, and which was the scene of such barbarities on the 
conquered on its being retaken by the Duke of Cumberland. 
The old castle, or that portion of it that remains, with its 
lofty, massive tower and wall, makes an imposing appearance, 
and is something like the pictures of castles in the story- 
books. In one portion of it are the rooms occupied by Mary, 
Queen of Scots, on her flight to England, after the battle of 
Langside. 

The old red freestone cathedral, built in the time ot the 
Saxons, where sleeps Dr. Paley, once archdeacon, and where 
is a monument erected to his memory, claimed a modicum 
of our time, after which we passed through Newcastle-on 
Tyne, celebrated, as all know in these modern days, as a port 
of shipment for coal, and busy with its glass-houses, potteries, 
iron and steel factories, and machine shops, and owing its 
name to the fact that Robert, son of William the Conqueror, 
built a new castle here after his return from a military ex- 
pedition. The old donjon keep and tower still stand, massive 
and blackened, not with the smoke of battle, but of modern 
industry, which rises, in murky volumes, from many chimneys. 

On we speed, leaving Newcastle, its dingy buildings and 
murky cloud, behind, and whirl over the railroad, till we reach 
the beautiful vale that holds the " Metropolis of the North of 
England," as the guide-books style it, — the ancient city of 
York, — with its Roman walls, and its magnificent minster ; a 
city, which, A. D. 150, was one of the greatest of the Roman 
stations in England, and had a regular government, an im- 
perial palace, and a tribunal within its walls. York, which 
carries us back to school-boy days, when we studied of the 
wars of the Roses, and the houses of York and Lancaster — 
York, whose modern namesake, more than seventeen hundred 
years its junior, in the New World, has seventeen times its 
population. 

York — yes, in York one feels that he is in Old England 
indeed. Here are the oM walls, still strong and massy, thai 



YORK. 89 

have echoed io the tramp of the Roman legions, that looked 
down on Adrian arid Constantine the Great, that have succes- 
sively been manned by Britons, Picts, Danes, and Saxons, the 
latter under the command of Hengist, mentioned in the story- 
legends that tell of the pair of warlike Saxon brothers, Hengist 
and Horsa, the latter, whose name in my youthful days al- 
ways seemed to have some mysterious connection with the 
^reat white-horse banner of the Saxon warriors, that was 
wont to float from the masts of their war ships. 

It was in York that the first Christmas was ever kept in 
England. This was done by King Arthur and his nobility 
when he began to rebuild the churches, in the year 500, that 
the Saxons had destroyed. 

York was once a place where many Jews dwelt. We all 
remember Isaac of York, in the story of Ivanhoe ; and the 
great massacre of this people there in 1490, when over two 
thousand fell victims to popular fury. 

But I am not going to give a chronological history of this 
interesting city, for there is scarcely an American reader of 
English history but will recall a score of noteworthy events 
that have occurred within its ancient walls. 

The great and crowning wonder here to the tourist is, of 
course, the cathedral, or the minster, as it is called. This 
magnificent and stupendous pile, which occupied nearly two 
hundred years in erection, and has stood for three hundred 
years since its completion, is, without doubt, one of the most 
magnificent Gothic structures in the world, and excels in 
beauty and magnificence most ecclesiastical buildings of the 
middle ages. After a walk through a quaint old quarter of 
the city, and a stroll on the parapets of the great wall, through 
some of the gates, with the round, solid watch-towers above 
them, pierced with arrow-slits for crossbowmen, or having, 
high above, little turrets for sentinels, I was in the mood for 
the sight of the grand old cathedral, but not at all prepared 
for the superb and elegant proportions of the pile which sud- 
denly appeared to view, as I turned a corner of a street. 

The length of this majestic pile is five hundred and twenty 



DO YORK MINSTER. 

four feet, and its breadth two hundred and twenty-two, and 
the height of its two square and massive towers one hundred 
and ninety-six feet. I got a west view of the building first, 
which . is what I should suppose was properly its front, con- 
sisting of the two tall square towers, with the main entrance 
between them, surmounted by a great Gothic window, ex- 
hibiting a magnificent specimen of the leafy and fairy like 
tracery of the fourteenth century. Tall, pointed arches are 
above it, and the two towers are also adorned with windows, 
and elaborate ornamentation. To the rear of them, at the 
end of the nave and between the two transepts, rises the cen- 
tral tower two hundred and thirteen feet. There is a fine 
open space in front of this glorious west front, and no lover 
of architectui-e can come upon it for the first time without 
standing entranced at the wondrous beauty of the building in 
proportion, decoration, and design. 

Churches occupied the site of York Cathedral centuries be- 
fore it. One was built here by King Edwin, in 627 ; another 
in 767, which stood till 1069 ; but the present building was 
founded in 1171, and completed in the year 1400. 

The expectations created by an external view of its archi- 
tectural grandeur and rich embellishments are surpassed upon 
an examination of the interior, a particular description of 
which would require almost a volume to give space to. We 
can only, therefore, take a glance at it. 

First, there is the great east window, which, for magnitude 
and beauty of coloring, is unequalled in the world. Only 
think of a great arch seventy-five feet high, and over thirty 
feet broad, a glory of stained glass ! The upper part is a 
piece of admirable tracery, and below it are over a hundred 
compartments, occupied with scriptural representations — 
saints, priests, angels, &c: Each pane of glass is a yard 
square, and the figures two feet three inches in length. Right 
across this great window runs what I supposed to be a strong 
iron rod, or wire, but which turned out to be a stone gallery 
or piazza, a bridge big enough for a person to cross upon, and 
;from which the view that is had of the whole interior of this 



BEAUTIES OF YORK MINSTER. 91 

great minster — a vista of Gothic arches and clustered col* 
umns of more than five hundred feet in length, terminated by 
the great west window, with its gorgeous display of colored 
glass — is grand beyond description. The great west window 
contains pictured representations of the eight earliest arch- 
bishops of York, and eight saints, and other figures. It was 
put up in 1338, and is remarkable for its richness of coloring. 

Besides the great east and west windows, there are sixteen 
in the nave and fifteen in the side aisles. In the south tran- 
sept, which is the oldest part of the building, high up above 
the entrance, in the point of the arch, is the great " marigold 
window," formed of two concentric circles of small arches in 
the form of a wheel, the lights of which give it the appearance 
of the flower from which it is named, the diameter of this 
great stone and glass marigold being over thirty feet. Then, 
in the north transept, opposite, is another window of exquisite 
coloring — those warm, deep, mellow hues of the old artisans 
in colored glass, which the most cunning of their modern 
successors seek in vain to rival. It appears, as it were, a vast 
embroidery frame in five sections, each section a different pat- 
tern of those elaborate traceries and exquisite hues of needle- 
work with which noble ladies whiled away their time in castle- 
bower, while their knights fought the infidel in distant clime. 
This noble window is known as the " Five Sisters," from the 
fact that the pattern is said to have been wrought from de- 
signs in needle-work of five maiden sisters of York. 

The story of these sisters is told by Dickens hi the sixth 
chapter of Nicholas Nickleby. This magnificent window is 
nfly-seven feet in height, and it was put in in the year 1290, 
The other windows I cannot spare space to refer to ; suffice it 
to say the windows of this cathedral present a gorgeous dis- 
play of ancient stained glass not to be met with in any similar 
building in the world. In fact, the minster exhibits more 
windows than solid fabric to exterior view, imparting a mar- 
vellous degree of lightness to the huge structure, while inside 
the vastness of the space gives the spectator opportunity to 
stand at a proper distance, and look up at them as they aie 



92 MAGNIFICENT ARCHITECTURAL EFFECTS. 

stretched before the view like great paintings, framed iu ex- 
quisite tracery of stone-work, with the best possible effect of 
light. The glass of these windows, I was informed by the 
verger who acted as our guide, was taken out and hidden 
during the iconoclastic excitement of Cromwell's time, and 
they are now the only ones that have preserved the ancient 
glass intact in the kingdom. The most valuable are protected 
by a strong shield of extra plate glass outside. 

From the painted glories of the windows the visitor's eye 
sweeps over the vast expanse of clustered pillars, lofty Gothic 
arches, and splendid vistas of Gothic columns on every side. 
In the great western aisle, or nave, a perspective view of full 
three hundred feet of columns and arches is had ; and stand- 
ing upon the pavement, you look to the grand arched roof, 
which is clear ninety-nine feet above, and the eye is fairly 
dazed with the immensity of space. The screen, as it is 
called, which separates the nave from the choir, rises just 
high enough to form a support for the organ, without con- 
cealing from view the grand arches and columns of the choir, 
which stretch far away, another vista of two hundred and 
sixty-four feet, before the bewildered view of the visitor, who 
finds himself almost awe-struck in the very vastness and sub- 
limity of this grand architectural creation. 

The screen is a must elaborate and superb piece of sculp- 
ture, and is ornamented with the statues of the English kings, 
from the time of William the Conqueror to Henry VI., fifteen 
in number. The great choir, with its exuberant display 
of carving, richly-ornamented stalls, altar, and side aisles, 
screened with carved oak, is another wonder. Here I had 
the pleasure of listening to the choral service, performed by 
the full choir of men and boys attached to the cathedral ; and 
I stood out among the monuments of old archbishops and 
warriors of five hundred years agone, and heard that sweet 
chant float upon the swelling peals of the organ, away up 
amid the lofty groined arches of the grand old minster, till 
its dying echoes were lost amid the mysterious tracery above, 
or the grand, full chorus of powerful voices made the lofty 



GEOMETRICAL ARCHITECTURE. 93 

roof to ring again, as it were, with heavenly melody. There 
was every appeal to the ear, the eye, the imagination ; and J 
may say it seemed the very poetry of religion, and poetry oi 
a sublime order, too. 

An attempt even at a description of the different monu- 
ments of the now almost forgotten, and many entirely forgot- 
ten, dignitaries and benefactors of the church that are found 
all along the great side aisles, would be a useless task. Some 
are magnificent structures of marble, with elegantly-sculptured 
effigies of bishops in their ecclesiastical robes. Others once 
were magnificent in sculptured stone and brass, but have been 
defaced by time and vandalism, and, in their shattered ruin, 
tell the story of man's last vanity, or are a most striking 
illustration of what a perishable shadow is human greatness. 

The Chapter-house attached to York Minster is said to be 
the most perfect specimen of Gothic architecture in the world, 
and is certainly one of the most magnificent interiors of the 
kind I ever gazed upon. The records of the church give no 
information as to whom this superb edifice was erected by, 
or at what period, and the subject is one of dispute among 
the antiquaries, who suppose it must have been built either 
in the year 1200 or 1800. It is a perfect octagon, of sixty- 
three feet in diameter, and the height from the centre to the 
middle knot of the roof sixty-seven feet, without the interrup- 
tion of a single pillar, — being wholly dependent on a single 
key-pin, geometrically placed in the centre. 

Seven squares of the octagon have each a window of 
stained glass, with the armorial bearings of benefactors of the 
church, the eighth square being the entrance; below the 
windows are the seats, or stalls, for the canons and dignitaries 
of the church, when they assemble here for installations and 
other purposes. The columns around the side of this room 
are carved, in the most profuse manner, with the most singu- 
lar figures, such as an ugly old friar embracing a young girl, 
to the infinite delight of a group of nuns^ grotesque figures of 
men and animals, monks playing all sorts of 'pranks, grinning 
faces, &c. The whole formation of this exquisitely-constructed 



«)4 OLD SAXON KELICS. 

building shows a thorough geometric knowledge in the build- 
ers, and the entrance to it is by a vestibule, in the form of a 
mason's square. 

In the vestries we had an opportunity of seeing many and 
well-authenticated historical curiosities. The most ancient oi 
these is the famous Horn of Ulphus, the great Saxon drinking 
horn, from which Ulphus was wont to drink, and by which 
the church still holds valuable estates near York. With this 
great ivory horn, filled with wine, the old chieftain knelt before 
the high altar, and, solemnly quaffing a deep draught, be- 
stowed upon the church by the act all his lands, tenements, 
&c, giving to the holy fathers the horn as their title deed, 
which they have preserved ever since; and their successors 
permit sacrilegious Yankees, like myself, to press their lips to 
its brim, while examining the old relic. 

A more modern drinking-cup is the ancient wooden bowl, 
which was presented by Archbishop Scrope — who was be- 
headed in the year 1405 — to the Society of Cordwainers in 
1398, and by them given to the church in 1808. This more 
sensible drinking-cup has silver legs and a silver rim, and not 
only is it well adapted for a jorum of punch, but the good 
archbishop made it worth while to drink from it, according 
to the ancient inscription upon it, in Old English characters, 
which reads, — 

EftfjaroE arch hescftope Sctoope grant unto all tfto that 
ormkfs of tfjfs cope £3Lti oaga to patoon. 

Besides this, we had the pleasure of grasping the solid 
silver crosier, given by Queen Catharine, widow of King 
Charles II. to her confessor, a staff of weight and value, 
seven feet in length, elegantly wrought in appropriate de- 
signs. "We were also shown the official rings found in the 
forgotten tombs of archbishops, in repairing the church jsave- 
ment, bearing thtir dates of the eleventh and twelfth centimes. 
The antique chair in which the Saxon kings were crowned is 
here — a relic older than the cathedral itself; and as " uneasy 
lies the head that wears a crown," uncomfortable must have 



A SAD EECOED. 95 

been the seat of ,him that wore it also, if ray few minutes' 
experience between its great arms is worth anything; but, 
still, it was something to have sat in the very chair in which 
the bloody Richard III. had been crowned, — for both he and 
James I. were crowned in this chair, — thinking at the time, 
while I mentally execrated the crooked tyrant's memory, of 
the words Shakespeare put into his mouth : — 

"Is the chair empty ? Is the sword, unswayed ? 
Is the king dead ? the empire unpossessed ? 
"What heir of York is there alive but we ? 
And who is England's king but great York's heir ? " 

Here we were shown an old Bible, presented by King 
Charles II., the old communion plate, which is five hundred 
years old, the old vestment chest, of carved oak, of the time 
of Edward III., with the legend of St. George and the Dragon 
represented upon it, a Bible of 1671, presented by James I., 
and other interesting antiquities. 

I concluded my visit to this glorious old minster by ascend- 
ing the Central or Lantern Tower, as it is called, which rises 
to a height of two hundred and thirteen feet from the pave- 
ment, and from which I had a magnificent view of the city of 
York and the surrounding country. 

Although forbearing an attempt to enter upon any detailed 
descriptions of numerous beautiful monuments in the cathe- 
dral, I cannot omit referring to the many modern memorials 
of British officers and soldiers who have perished in different 
parts of the world, fighting the battles of their sovereign. 
Here is one to six hundred officers and privates of the nine- 
teenth regiment of foot, who fell in Russia, in 1854-5; another 
to three hundred officers and privates of the fifty-first, who fell 
at Burmah, in 1852-3 ; a monument to three hundred and 
seventy-three of the eighty-fourth, who perished during the 
mutiny and rebellion in India in 1857, '8 and '9; a memorial 
slab to six hundred officers and men of the thirty-third West 
York, or Wellington's Own, who lost their lives in the Rus- 
sian campaign of 1854-6; a beautiful, elaborate monument 



96 SHEFFIELD. 

to Colonel Moore and those of the Inniskillen Dragoons, who 
perished with him in a transport vessel at sea, &c. 

There is not a church or cathedral, not in ruins, that the 
tourist visits in Great Britain, but that he reads the bloody 
catalogue of victims of England's glory recorded on mural 
tablets or costly monuments, a glory that seems built upon 
hecatombs of lives, showing that the very empire itself is 
held together by the cement of human blood, — blood, too, 
of the dearest and the bravest, — for I have read upon costly 
monuments, reared by titled parents, of noble young soldiers, 
of twenty-two and twenty years, and even younger, who have 
fallen " victims to Chinese treachery," " perished in a typhoon 
in the Indian Ocean," " been massacred in India," " lost at sea," 
" killed in the Crimea." They have fallen upon the burning 
sands of India, amid the snows of Russia, or in the depths of 
savage forests, or sunk beneath the pitiless wave, in uphold- 
ing the blood-red banner of that nation. This fearful record 
that one encounters upon every side is a terrible and bloody 
reckoning of the cost of the great nation's glory and power. 

From the glories of York Minster, from the pleasant and 
dreamy walks on delightful spring days, upon its old walls, 
and beneath its antique gateways, its ruined cloisters of St. 
Leonard's, founded by Athelstane the Saxon, and the stately 
ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, with the old Norman arch and 
shattered walls, we will glance at an English city under a 
cloud, or, I might almost say, under a pall, for the great black 
banner that hangs over Sheffield is almost dark enough for 
ons, and in that respect reminds us of our own Pittsburg, 
with the everlasting coal smoke j)ermeating and penetrating 
everywhere and everything, 

The streets of Sheffield have the usual grimy, smoky ap- 
pearance of a manufacturing place, and, apart from the steel 
and cutlery works, there is but little of interest here. One 
cannot help observing, however, the more abject squalor and 
misery which appear in some of the poorer neighborhoods, 
than is ever seen in similar towns or cities in America. The 
spirit shops, with their bold signs of different kinds of liquors, 



THE CUTLERY WOKKS. 97 

and the gin saloons, with their great painted casks reared on 
high behind the counter, at which women serve out the blue 
ruin, are visible explanations of the cause of no small portion 
of the misery. 

I found the cutlery works that I visited conducted far dif- 
ferently than we manage such things in America, where the 
whole work would be carried on in one great factory, and 
from year to year improvements made in machinery, interior 
arrangements, &c. ; but here the effort seems to be, on the 
part of the workmen, to resist every advance or improvement 
possible. 

We visited the great show-rooms of Rogers & Sons, where 
specimens of every description of knives, razors, scissors, cork- 
screws, boot-hooks, &c, that they manufacture, were exhibited, 
a very museum of steel work ; and a young salesman was de- 
tailed to answer the questions and show the same, including 
the celebrated many-bladed knife, which has one blade added 
for every year. 

A visit to Joseph Elliot & Son's razor works revealed to 
us the manner in which many of the manufacturers carry on 
their business. We found the workmen not all together in 
one factory, but in different buildings. In one was where the 
first rough process of forging was performed ; from thence, 
perhaps across a street, the blades received further touches 
from other workmen, and so on, till, when ready for grinding 
and polishing, they were carried to the grinding and polish- 
ing works, some distance off, and finally returned to a build- 
ing near the warerooms, to be joined to the handles, after 
which they were papered and packed, immediately adjoin- 
ing the warerooms proper, where sales were made and goods 
delivered 

I was surprised, in visiting the forges where the elastic 
metal was beat into graceful blades, to find them little dingy 
Qooks and corners in a series of old rookeries of buildings, 
often badly lighted, cramped and inconvenient, and difficult 
of access. No American workmen would work in such a 
place ; but in watching the progress of the work, we saw in- 
7 



98 ENGLISH MECHANICS. 

stances of the skill and thoroughness of British mechanics, 
who ha v^e devoted their life to one particular branch of manu- 
facture — the precision of stroke in forging, the rapidity with 
which it was done, to say nothing of the reliability, which is 
one characteristic of English work. 

In that country, where the ranks of every department of 
labor are so crowded, there seems to be an ambition as to 
who shall do the best work, who shall be he that turns out 
the most skilfully wrought article ; and of course the incentive 
to this ambition is a permanent situation, and a workman 
whom the master will be the last to part with in dull times. 
Then, again, in the battle for life, for absolute bread and 
butter, people are only too glad to make a sacrifice to learn 
a trade that will provide it. No boy can set up as a journey- 
man here after a couple of years' experience, as they do in 
America. There are no such bunglers in every department 
of mechanical work as in our country. To do journeyman's 
work and earn journeyman's pay, a man must have served a 
regular apprenticeship, and have learned his business ; and he 
has to pay his master for giving him the opportunity, and 
teaching him a trade, by which he can work and receive a 
journeyman's pay — which is right and proper. The com- 
pensation may be in the advantage the master gets from good 
work at a low figure in the last years of the apprenticeship, 
or in some kinds of business in a stipulated sum of money 
paid to him. Yet in England he gets some return, instead 
of having his workman, as is generally the case in America, 
as soon as he ceases to spoil material and becomes of some 
^alue, desert him sans cercmonie. 

The difficulty, in America, lies in the enormous demand for 
mechanical labor, so large that many are willing and obliged 
to receive inferior work or none at all, in the haste that all 
have to be rich, the boy to have journeyman's wages, the 
journeyman to be foreman, and foreman to be contractor and 
manager, and the abundant opportunity for them all to be so 
with the very smallest qualifications for the positions. 

It is the thorough workmanship of many varieties of British 



TRADES THOROdGHLY LEARNED. 99 

goods that Ja^.kes them so much superior to those of American 
manufacture ; and we may talk in this country as much as we 
please ahout its being snobbish to prefer foreign to American 
manufactured goods, yet just as long as the American article 
is inferior in quality, durability, and finish to the foreign ar- 
ticle, just so long will people of means and education pur- 
chase it. I believe in encouraging American manufactures 
to their fullest extent ; but let American manufacturers, when 
they are encouraged by protection or whatever means, provu 
by their products that they are deserving it, as it is gratify- 
ing to know that many of them have ; and in this very article 
of steel, the great Pittsburg steel workers, such as Park Bros. & 
Co., Hussey, Wells, & Co., Anderson, Cook, & Co., and others 
in that city and Philadelphia, whose names do not now occur 
to me, have actually, in some departments of their business, 
beaten the British manufacturers in excellence and finish, 
proving that it can be done in America. When visiting the 
great iron works, forges, and factories in Pittsburg, I have 
frequently encountered, in the different departments, skilled 
workmen from Birmingham, Sheffield, and other English 
manufacturing towns, who, of course, were doing much better 
than at home, and whose thorough knowledge of their trade 
never failed to be the burden of the managers' commendation. 

A razor is beaten out into shape, ground, tempered, polished, 
and finished much more speedily than I imagined ; and as an 
illustration of the cheapness at which one can be produced, 
very good ones are made by Rogers & Sons for six shillings 
a dozen, or sixpence each. This can be done because .they 
are made by apprentices, whose wages are comparatively 
trifling. A very large number of these razors go to the 
United States. Rogers' knives and razors of the finer de- 
scriptions generally command a slight advance over thoso 
of other manufacturers, although there are some here even in 
Sheffield whose work is equally good in every respect. 

The Messrs. Ellijt's razors are celebrated for their excel- 
lence bcth in England and this country. In visiting thenr 
works T was received by one of the partners, a man who owns 



100 ENGLISH ALli. 

his elegant country-house, and enjoys a handsome income, but 
who was in his great wareroom, with his workman's apron 
on — a badge which he seemed to wear as a matter of course, 
and in no way affecting his position; and I then remembered 
one American gentleman, who, after rising to affluence, wad 
never too proud to wear his apron if he thought that part of 
his dress necessary about his business, and he a man we all 
remember sans reproche — the late Jonas Chickering, the great 
piano manufacturer of Boston. 

At Needham Brothers' cutlery works we saw table knives 
beaten out of the rough steel with an astonishing rapidity, 
passed from man to man, till the black, shapeless lump was 
placed in my hand a trenchant blade, fit for service at the 
festive board. Both here and at Elliot & Sons' razor works 
we saw invoices of handsome cutlery in process of manufac- 
ture for the American market. 

The grinders and polishers here receive the highest wages, 
on account of the unhealthy nature of the employment, which 
has frequently been described, the fine particles of steel af- 
fecting the lungs so that the grinders are said to be short- 
lived men, and their motto " a short life and a merry one," 
as I was informed ; the " merry " part consisting of getting 
uproariously drunk between Saturday night and Tuesday 
morning. These grinders are also exceedingly jealous of ap- 
prentices, and I shrewdly suspect in some degree magnify 
the dangers of their calling, in order that their numbers may 
be kept as few, and wages as high, as possible. 

A vast deal of ale is drank in Sheffield, as may well be im- 
agined ; and the great arched vaults which form the support 
to a bridge, or causeway, out from the railway station to the 
streets of the city, are filled with hundreds on hundreds of 
barrels of this popular English beverage. And in truth, to 
enjoy good ale, and get good ale, one must go to England for 
it ; the butler on the stage who said, " They 'ave no good 
hale in Hamerica, because they ain't got the opps," spoke 
comparatively, no doubt ; but at the little English inns, upon 
benches beneath the branches of a great tree, or in cleanly 



CHATSWORTU. 101 

sanded little public-house parlors at the windows, looking out 
upon charming English landscapes, the frothing tankards are 
especially inviting and comforting to those using them; 
while, per contra, the foul, stale effluvia from the sloppy 
dens in this city, which were thronged when the men were 
off work, the bluff, bloated, and sodden appearance of ardent 
lovers of the ale of England, were evidence that its use might 
be abused, as well as that of more potent fluids. 

There is comparatively little of historical interest in Shef 
field to attract the attention of the tourist. Thore was an 
old castle erected there at an early period, and, at a place 
called Sheffield Manor-house, Mary, Queen of Scots, passed 
over thirty years of her imprisonment ; but the chief interest 
of the place is, of course, its cutlery manufactories, and its 
reputation for good knives dates back to the thirteenth centu- 
ry, when it was noted as the place where a kind of knife 
known as " Whittles " were made. The presence of iron ore, 
coal, and also the excellent water power near the city, make 
it a very advantageous place for such work. The great grind- 
ing works in the city, where the largest proportion of that 
work is done, are driven by steam power. Besides cutlery in 
all its branches, Sheffield turns out plated goods, Britannia 
ware, brass work, buttons, &c, in large quantities. 

Leaving the smoke, hum, clatter, and dingy atmosphere of 
a great English manufacturing city, we took rail, and sped on 
till we reached Matlock-Bath. Here debarking, we took an 
open carriage for Edensor, a little village belonging to the 
Duke of Devonshire, and situated upon a portion of his mag- 
nificent estate, the finest estate of any nobleman in England. 
And some idea of its extent may be gathered from the fact 
that its pleasure park contains two thousand acres. Our ride 
to this estate, known as Chatsworth, was another one of those 
enjoyable experiences of charming English scenery, over a 
pleasant drive of ten miles, till we entered upon the duke's 
estates, and drove across one comer, for a mile or more, to a 
pretty little road-side inn, where we were welcomed by a 
white-aproned landlord, landlady, and waiter, just such as are 



102 A BEAUTIFUL SCENE. 

described by the noval writers, and people to whom the 
hurried, bustling, imperious manner of go-ahead Americans 
seems most extraordinary and surprising. 

The Duke of Devonshire's landed property is just such a 
one as an American should visit to realize the impressions he 
has received of a nobleman's estate from English stories, nov- 
els, and dramatic representations. Here great reaches of 
beautiful greensward swept away as far as the eye could reach, 
with groups of magnificent oaks in the landscape view, and 
troops of deer bounding off in the distance. Down the slope, 
here and there, came the ploughman, homeward plodding 
his weary way, in almost the same costume that Westall has 
drawn him in his exquisite little vignette, in the Chiswick 
edition of Gray's poems. There, in "the open," upon the 
close-cut turf, as we approached the village, was a party of 
English boys, playing the English game of cricket. Here, in 
a sheltered nook beneath two tall trees, nestled the cottage — 
the pretty English cottage of one of the duke's gamekeepers. 
The garden was gay with many-colored flowers, three chubby 
children were rolling over each other on the grass, and a little 
brook wimpled on its course down towards groups of cluster- 
ing alders, quarter of a mile away. Farther on, we meet the 
gamekeeper himself, with his double-barrelled gun and game- 
pouch, and followed by two splendid pointers. There were 
hill and dale, river and lake, oaks and forest, wooded hills and 
rough rocks, grand old trees, — 

" The brave old oak, 
That stands in his pride and majesty 
When a hundred years have flown," 

and upon an eminence, overlooking the whole, stands the pal 
ace of the duke, the whole front, of twelve or thirteen hun- 
dred feet, having a grand Italian flower garden, with its urns, 
vases, and statues in full view over the dwarf balustrades 
that protect it ; the beautiful Grecian architecture of the 
building, the statues, fountains, forest, stream, and slope, all 
so charmingly combined by both nature and art into a lovely 
landscape picture, as to seem almost like a scene from fairy- 
land. 



a nobleman's estate. 1.03 

But here we are at Edensor, the little village owned by the 
duke, and in which he is finishing a new church for his ten- 
antry, a very handsome edifice, at a cost of nearly fifteen thou- 
sand pounds. This Edensor is one of the most beautiful little 
villages in England. Its houses are all built in Elizabethan, 
Swiss, and quaint styles of architecture, and looking, for all 
the world, like a clean little engraving from an illustrated 
book. 

I hardly know where to commence any attempt at descrip- 
tion of this magnificent estate ; but some idea may be had of 
its extent from the fact that the park is over nine miles in 
circumference, that the kitchen gardens and green-houses 
cover twenty acres, and that there are thirty green-houses, 
from fifty to seventy-five feet long; that, standing upon a 
hill-top, commanding a circuit view of twelve miles, I could 
see nothing but what this man owned, or was his estate. 
Through the great park, as we walked, magnificent pheasants, 
secure in their protection by the game laws upon this vast 
estate, hardly waddled out of our path. The troops of deer 
galloped within fifty paces of us, sleek cattle grazed upon the 
verdant slope, and every portion of the land showed evidence 
of careful attention from skilful hands. 

We reached a bridge which spanned the little river, — a 
fine, massive stone structure, built from a design by Michael 
Angelo, — and crossing it, wound our way up to the grand 
entrance, with its great gates of wrought and gilt iron. One 
of those well-got-up, full-fed, liveried individuals, whom Punch 
denominates flunkies, carried my card in, for permission to 
view the premises, which is readily accorded, the steward of 
the establishment sending a servant to act as guide. 

Passing through a broad court-yard, we enter the grand 
entrance-hall — a noble room some sixty or seventy feet in 
length, its lofty wall adorned with elegant frescoes, repre- 
senting scenes from the life of Caesar, including his celebrated 
Passing of the Rubicon, and his Death at the Senate House, 
&c. Passing up a superb, grand staircase, rich with statues 
of heathen deities and elegantly-wrought columns, we went 



L04 INTERIOR OF THE PALACE. 

on to the state apartments of the house. The ceilings of 
these magnificent rooms are adorned with splendid pictures, 
among which are the Judgment of Paris, Phaeton in the 
Chariot of the Sun, Aurora, and other mythological subjects, 
while the rooms themselves, opening one out of the other, 
are each rich in works of vertu and ai-t, and form a vista of 
beauty and wonder, Recollect, all these rooms were differ- 
ent, each furnished in the most perfect taste, each rich in rare 
and curious productions of art, ancient and modem, for 
which all countries, even Egypt and Turkey, had been ran- 
sacked. 

The presents of kings and princes, and the purchases of the 
richest dukes for three generations, contributed to adorn the 
apartments of this superb palace. Not among the least won- 
derful works of art is some of the splendid wood-carving of 
Gibbon upon the walls — of game, flowers, and fruit, so ex- 
quisitely executed that the careless heap of grouse, snipe, or 
partridges look as though a light breeze would stir their very 
feathers — flowers that seem as if they would drop from the 
walls, and a game-bag at which I had to take a close look to 
see if it were really a creation of the carver's art. 

Upon the walls of all the rooms are suspended beautiful 
pictures by the great artists. Here, in one room, we found 
our old, familiar friend, Bolton Abbey in the Olden Time, 
the original painting by Landseer, and a magnificent picture 
it is. In another room was one of Holbein's portraits of 
Henry VIII., and we were shown also the rosary of this king, 
who was married so numerously, an elegant and elaborately- 
carved piece of work. In another apartment was a huge 
tabla of malachite, — a single magnificent slab of about eight 
feet long by four in width, — a clack of gold and malachite, 
presented to the duke by the Emperor Nicholas, worth a 
thousand guineas, a broad table of one single sheet of trans 
lucent spar. 

In the state bedroom was the bed in which George II 
died. Here also were the chairs and foot-stools that were 
used by George III. and his queen at their coronation ; and 



WEALTH UNBOUNDED. 10O 

in another room the two chairs in which WLlhm IV. and 
Queen Adelaide sat when they were crowned, and looking in 
their elaborate and florid decoration of gold and color pre- 
cisely like the chairs placed upon the stage at the theatre for 
the mimic monarchs of dramatic representations. In fact, all 
the pomp, costume, and paraphernalia of royalty, so strikingly 
reminds an American of theatric display, that the only differ- 
ence seems that the one is shown by a manager, and the other 
by a king. 

Then there were numerous magnificent cabinets, ancient 
and modern, inlaid with elegant mosaic work, and on their 
shelves rested that rich, curious, and antique old china of 
every design, for which the wealthy were wont to pay such 
fabulous prices. Some was of exquisite beauty and elegant 
design ; others, to my unpractised eye, would have suffered 
in comparison with our present kitchen delf. Elegant tapes- 
tries, cabinet paintings, beautifully-modelled furniture, met 
the eye at every turn; rare bronze busts and statues appro- 
priately placed ; the floors one sheet of polished oak, so ex- 
actly were they matched ; and the grand entrance doors of 
each one of the long range of beautiful rooms being placed 
exactly opposite the other, give a vista of five hundred and 
sixty feet in length. 

Then there was the great library, which is a superb room 
over a hundred feet long, with great columns from floor to 
ceiling, and a light gallery running around it. Opening out 
of it are an ante-library and cabinet library — perfect gems of 
rooms, rich in medallions, pictures by Landseer, &c, and, of 
course, each room containing a wealth of literature on the 
book-shelves in the Spanish mahogany alcoves. In fact, the 
rooms in this edifice realize one's idea of a nobleman's palace, 
and the visitor sees that they contain all that unbounded 
wealth can purchase, and taste and art produce. I must not 
forget, in one of these apartments, a whole set of ex- 
quisite little filigree, silver toys, made for one of the duke's 
daughters, embracing a complete outfit for a baby-house, 
and including piano, chairs, carriage, &c, all beautifully 



106 AKT, LUXURY, TASTE. 

wrought, elaborate specimens of workmanship, artistically 
made, but, of course, useless for service. 

In one of the great galleries we were shown a magnificent 
collection of artistic wealth in the form of nearly a thousand 
original drawings — first rough sketches of the old masters, 
some of their masterpieces which adom the great galleries of 
Europe, and are celebrated all over the world. 

Only think of looking upon the original designs, the rough 
crayon, pencil, or chalk sketches made by Rubens, Salvator 
Rosa, Claude Lorraine, Raphael, Titian, Correggio, Michael 
Angelo, Nicolas Poussin, Hogarth, and other great artists, of 
some of their most celebrated works, and these sketches bear- 
ing the autographic signatures of the painters ! This grand 
collection of artistic wealth is all arrayed and classified into 
Flemish, Venetian, Spanish, French, and Italian schools, &c, 
and the value in an artistic point of view is almost as incon- 
ceivable as the interest to a lover of art is indescribable. The 
tourist can only feel, as he is compelled to hurry through such 
treasures of art, that the brief time he has to devote to them 
is but little better than an aggravation. 

An elegant private chapel, rich in sculpture, painting, and 
carving, affords opportunity for the master of this magnificent 
estate to worship God in a luxurious manner. Scenes from 
the life of the Saviour, from the pencils of great artists, adorn 
the walls — Verrio's Incredulity of Thomas ; an altar-piece 
by Cibber, made of Derbyshire spar and marble, with figures 
of Faith and Hope, and the wondrous wood carving of Gib- 
bons, are among the treasures of this exquisite temple to the 
Most High. 

Naxt we visit the Sculpture Gallery, in which are collected 
the choicest works of art in Chatsworth : the statues, busts, 
vases, and bronzes that we have passed in niches, upon cabi- 
nets, on great marble staircases, and at various other points 
in the mansion, would in themselves have formed a wondroua 
collection; but here is the Sculpture Gallery proper, a lofty 
hall over one hundred feet in length, lighted from the top, 
and the light is managed so as to display to the best advan 



THE SCULPTURE GALLERY. 107 

tage th.3 treasures, of art here collected. I can only mention 
a few of the most striking which I jotted down in my note- 
book, and which will indicate the value of the collection: 
Discobulus, by Kessels ; upon the panels of the pedestal, on 
which this statue is placed, are inlaid slabs of elegant Swedish 
porphyry, and a fine mosaic taken from Herculaneum ; a 
colossal marble bust of Bonaparte, by Canova ; Gott's Venus ; 
two colossal lions (after Canova), cut in Carrara marble, one 
by Rinaldi and the other by Benaglia — they are beautifully 
finished, and the weight of the group is eight tons ; bust of 
Edward Everett, by Powers; the Venus Genetrix of Thor- 
waldsen ; five elegantly finished small columns from Constan- 
tinople, surmounted by Corinthian capitals cut in Rome, and 
crowned with vases and balls, all of beautiful workmanship ; 
a statue of Hebe, by Canova ; a colossal group of Mars and 
Cupid, by Gibson ; Cupid enclosing in his hands the butter- 
fly ; an image of Psyche, the Grecian emblem of the soul, an 
exquisite piece of sculpture, by Finelli ; a bass-relief of three 
sleeping Cupids, also most life-like in execution; Tadolini's 
Ganymede and Eagle; Bartolini's Bacchante with Tamborine; 
a superb vase and pedestal, presented by the Emperor of 
Russia ; Venus wounded by treading on a rose, and Cupid 
extracting the thorn ; Endymion sleeping with his dog watch- 
ing, by Canova : Achilles wounded ; Venus Filatrice, as it is 
called, a beautiful spinning girl, one of the most beautiful 
works in the gallery — the pedestal on which this figure 
stands is a fragment from Trajan's Forum; Petrarch's Laura, 
by Canova, &c. From the few that I have mentioned, the 
wealth of this collection may be imagined. In the centre oi 
the room stands the gigantic Mecklenburg Vase, twenty feet 
in circumference, sculptured out of a single block of granite, 
resting on a pedestal of the same material, and inside the vase 
a serpent coiled in form of a figure eight, wrought from black 
marble. 

I have given but a mere glance at the inside of this elegant 
palace : in passing through the different grand apartments, the 
visitor, if he will step from time to time into the deep win 



lOy • LANDSCAPE EFFECTS. 

clows and l;>ok upon the scene without, will see how art has 
managed that the very landscape views shall have additional 
charm and beauty to the eye. One window commands a 
close-shaven green lawn over a hundred feet wide and five 
hundred long, as regular and clean as a sheet of green velvet, 
its extreme edge rich in a border of many-colored flowerp ; 
another shows a slope crossed with walks, and enlivened 
with vases and sparkling fountains ; another, the natural land- 
scape, with river and bridge, and the background of noble 
oak trees ; a fourth shows a series of terraces rising one above 
the other for hundreds of feet, rich in flowering shrubs and 
plants, and descending the centre from the very summit, a 
great flight of stone steps, thirty feet in width, down which 
dashes a broad, thin sheet of water like a great web of silver 
in the sunshine, reflecting the marble statues at its margin, 
till it reaches the very verge of the broad gravel walk of the 
pleasure-grounds, as if to dash in torrents over it, when it 
disappears, as by magic, into the very earth, being conveyed 
away by a subterranean passage to the river. 

After walking about the enclosed gardens immediately 
around the palace, which are laid out in Italian style, with 
vases, statues, and fountains, reminding one strikingly of views 
upon theatrical act-drops on an extended scale, we came to 
several acres of ground, which appeared to have been left in 
a natural state ; huge crags, abrupt cliffs with dripping water- 
fall falling over the edge into a silent, black tarn at its base, 
curious caverns, huge boulders thrown together as by some 
convulsion, and odd plants growing among them. 

In and about romantic views, our winding path carried us 
until we were stopped by a huge boulder of rock that had 
tumbled down, apparently from a neighboring crag, directly 
upon the pathway. We were about to turn back to make a 
detour, as clambering over the obstacle was out of the ques- 
tion, when our guide solved the difficulty by pressing against 
the intruding mass of rock, which, to our surprise, yielding, 
swung to one side, leaving passage for us to pass. It waa 
artificially poised upon a pivot for this purpose. Then it was 



a GRAND CONSERVATORY. 109 

that we learned that the whole of this apparenlly natura 
scenery was in reality the work of art ; the rocky crags, water- 
fall and tarn, romantic and tangled shrubbery, rustic nooks, 
odd caverns, and mossy cliffs, nay, even old uprooted tree, 
and the one that, with dead foliage, stripped limbs, that stood 
out in bold relief against the sky, were all artistically placed, 
— in ftict the whole built and arranged for effect; and on 
knowing this, it seemed to be a series of natural models set 
for landscape painters to get bits of effect from. 

Among the curiosities in this natural artificial region was 
a wonderful tree, a sort of stiff-looking willow, but which our 
conductor changed by touching a secret spring into a veritable 
weeping willow, for fine streams of water started from every 
leaf, twig, and shoot of its copper branches — a most novel 
and curi ">us style of fountain. 

But we must pass on to the great conservatory, another 
surprise in this realm of wonders. Only think of a conserva- 
tory covering more than an acre of ground, with an arched 
roof of glass seventy feet high, and a great drive-way large 
enough for a carriage and four horses to be driven light 
through from one end to the other, a distance of two hundred 
and seventy-six feet, as Queen Victoria's was, on her visit to 
the estate. 

Before the erection of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, 
this conservatory was the most magnificent building of the 
kind in England, and was designed and built by Paxton, the 
duke's gardener, afterwards the architect of the Crystal Palace. 
Here one might well fancy himself, from the surroundings, 
transferred by Fortunatus's wishing cap into the tropics. 
Great palm trees lifted their broad, leafy crowns fifty feet 
above our heads ; slender bamboos rose like stacks of lances ; 
immense cactuses, ten feet high, bristled like fragments of a 
warrior's armor ; the air was fragrant with the smell of orange 
trees ; big lemons plumped down on the rank turf' from the 
dark, glossy foliage of the trees that bore them; opening 
o voids displayed stringy mace holding aromatic nutmegs ; 
wondrous vegetation, like crooked serpents, wound off on tlie 



110 WONDERS OP THE TROPICS. 

damp soil : great pitcher-plants, huge broad leaves of curious 
colors, looking as if cut from different varieties of velvet, and 
other fantastic wonders of the tropics, greeted us at every 
turn. Here was the curious sago palm; there xoser with its 
clusters of fruit the date palm ; again, great clusters of rich 
bananas drooped pendent from their support ; singular shrubs, 
curious grasses, wonderful leaves huge in size and singular in 
shape, and wondrous trees as large as life, rose on every side, 
so that one might readily imagine himself in an East Indian 
iungle or a Brazilian forest, — 

" And every air was heavy with the sighs 
Of orange groves," — 

or the strong, spicy perfume of strange trees and plants un- 
known in this cold climate. 

Over seventy thousand square feet of glass are between 
the iron ribs of the great roof of this conservatory, and within 
its ample space the soil and temperature are carefully ar- 
ranged to suit the nature and characters of the different 
plants it contains, while neither expense nor pains are spared 
to obtain and cultivate these vegetable curiosities in their 
native luxuriance and beauty. 

I will not attempt a particular description of the other 
green-houses. There are thirty in all, and each devoted to 
different kinds of fruits or flowers — a study for the horticul- 
turist or botanist. One was devoted entirely to medicinal 
plants, another to rare and curious flowering plants, gay in 
all the hues of the rainbow, and rich with perfume ; a Victoria 
Regia house, just completed, of octagon form, and erected 
expressly for the growth of this curious product of South 
American waters; magnificent graperies, four or five in all, 
and seven hundred feet long, with the green, white, and purple 
clusters depending in every direction and in various stages 
of growth, from blossom to perfection; pineries containing 
whole regiments of the fruit, ranged in regular ranks, with 
their martial blades erect above their green and yellow coats, 
of mail. Peach-houses, with the pink blossoms just bursting 



HADDON HALL. Ill 

into beauty, wei a succeeded by the fruit, first like vegetable 
grape-shot, and further on in great, luscious, velvet-coated 
spheroids at maturity, as it drops from the branches into 
netting spread to catch it. 

In the peach-houses is one tree, fifteen feet high, and its 
branches extending on tht; walls a distance of over fifty feet, 
producing, some years, over a thousand peaches. Then there 
are strawberry-houses, apricot, vegetable, and even a house for 
mushrooms, besides the extensive kitchen gardens, in which 
every variety of ordinary vegetable is grown ; all of these 
nurseries, gardens, hot-houses, and conservatories are well 
cared for, and kept in excellent order. 

The great conservatory is said to have cost one hundred 
thousand pounds ; it is heated by steam and hot water, and 
there are over six miles of piping in the building. The 
duke's table, whether he be here or at London, is supplied 
daily with rare fruits and the other products of these hot- 
beds of luxury. 

But the reader will tire of reading, as does the visitor of 
viewing, the endless evidences of the apparently boundless 
wealth that almost staggers the conception of the American 
tourist fresh from home, with his ideas of what constitutes 
wealth and power in a republican country. 

After having visited, as we have, one of the most magnifi- 
cent modern palaces of one of the most princely of modern 
England's noblemen, it was a pleasant transition to ride over 
to one of the most perfect remnants of the habitations of her 
feudal nobility, Haddon Hall, situated in Derbyshire, a few 
miles from Chatswortb. 

This fine old castellated building is one from which can be 
formed a correct idea of those old strongholds of the feudal 
lords of the middle ages ; indeed, it is a remnant of one of 
those very strongholds, a crumbling picture of the past, rich 
in its fine old coloring of chivalry and romance, conjuring up 
many poetic fancies, and putting to flight others, by the prac- 
tical realities that it presents in the shape of what would be 
now positive discomfort in our domestic life, but which, in 
those rude days, was magnificence. 



112 "ye olden time." 

Haddon Hall is in fact a very fine example of an old ba- 
ronial hall in ye times of old, and portions of the interior ap 
pear as though it had been preserved in the exact condition 
it was left by its knightly occupants three hundred years 
ago. 

The embattled turrets of Haddon, rising above the trees, ;:s 
it stood on its rocky platform, overlooking the little Rivei 
Wye and the surrounding country, seemed only to be wanting 
the knightly banner fluttering above them, and we almost ex- 
pected to see the flash of a spear-head in the sunlight, or the 
glitter of a steel helmet from the ancient but well-preserved 
walls. We climbed up the steep ascent to the great arched 
entrance, surmounted with the arms, in rude sculpture, of the 
Vernon family, who held the property for three centimes 
and a half; and beneath that arch, where warlike helmets, 
haughty brows, and beauteous ladies, the noblest and bravest 
blood of England have passed, passed we. 

No warder's horn summons the man-at-arms to the battle- 
ments above; no drawbridge falls, with ringing clang, over 
the castle moat, or pointed portcullis slowly raises its iron 
fangs to admit us ; but for hundreds of years have hundreds 
of feet pressed that threshold of stone — the feet of those of 
our own time, and of those who slumbered in the dust hun- 
dreds of years ere we trod the earth; and we mark, as we 
pass through the little door, cut through one of the broad 
leaves of the great gates, that in the stony threshold is the 
deep impression of a human foot, worn by the innumerable 
steppings that have been made upon the same spot by mailed 
heels, ladies' slippers, pilgrims' sandals, troopers' boots, or the 
leather and steel-clad feet of our own time. Passed the portal, 
and we were in the grand, open court-yard, with its quaint 
ornaments of stone carving, its stone pavement, and entrances 
to various parts of the building. 

There is a picture, entitled " Coming of Age in the Olden 
Time," which is familiar to many of my readers, and which is 
still common in many of our print-stores ; an engraving issued 
by one of the Scotch Art Unions, I believe, which was 



THE OLD BARONIAL HALL. 113 

brought forcibly to my mind, as I stood in this old court- 
yard of Haddon Hall, there were so many general features 
that were similar, and it required no great stretch of the im- 
agination for me to place the young nobleman upon the ver) 
flight of steps he occupies in the picture, and to group the 
other figures in the parts of the space before me, which 
seemed the very one they had formerly occupied ; but my 
dreams and imaginings were interrupted by a request to come 
and see what remained of the realities of the place. 

First, there was the great kitchen, all of stone, its fireplace 
big enough to roast an ox; a huge rude table or dresser; the 
great trough, or sink, into which fresh water was conducted : 
and an adjoining room, with its huge chopping-block still re- 
maining, was evidently the larder, and doubtless many a rich 
haunch of venison, or juicy baron of beef, has been trimmed 
into shape here. Another great vaulted room, down a flight 
of steps, was the beer cellar ; and a good supply of stout ale 
was kept there, as is evinced by the low platform of stone- 
work all around, and the stone drain to carry off the drippings. 
Then there is the bake-house, with its moulding-stone and 
ovens, the store-rooms for corn, malt, &c, all indicating that 
the men of ye olden times liked good, generous living. 

The Great Hall, as it is called, where the lord of the 
castle feasted with his guests, still remains, with its rough 
roof and rafters of oak, its minstrel gallery, ornamented with 
stags' antlers ; and there, raised above the stone floor a foot 
or so, yet remains the dais, upon which rested the table at 
which sat the nobler guests ; and here is the very table itself, 
/hree long, blackened oak planks, supported by rude X legs — 
the table that has borne the boars' heads, the barons of beef, 
gilded peacocks, haunches of venison, flagons of ale, and 
stoups of wine. Let us stand at its head, and look down the 
old baronial hall : it was once noisy with mirth and revelry, 
music and song: the fires from the huge fireplaces flashed 
on armor and weapons, faces and forms that have all long, 
since crumbled into dust; and here is only left a cheerless, 
barn-like old room, thirty-five feet long and twenty-five wide,. 
8 



114 OLD ENGLAND. 

with time-blackened rafters, and a retainers' room, or servants' 
hall, looking into it. 

Up a massive staircase of huge blocks of stone, and ve 
are in another apartment, a room called the dining-room, 
used for that purpose by more modern occupants of the Hall; 
and here we find portraits of Henry VII. and his queen, and 
also of the king's jester, Will Somers. Over the fireplace 
ai-e the royal arms, and beneath them, in Old English charac- 
ter, the motto, — 

JBretie @oti, anti honor the 3&mg. 

Up stairs, six semicircular steps of solid oak, and we are in 
the long gallery, or ball-room, one hundred and ten feet long 
and eighteen wide, with immense bay-windows, commanding 
beautiful views, the sides of the room wainscoted in oak, and 
decorated with carvings of the boar's head and peacock, the 
crests of the Vernon and Manners families ; carvings of roses 
and thistles also adorn the walls of this apartment, which was 
said to have been built in Queen Elizabeth's time, and there 
is a curious story told of the oaken floor, which is, that the 
boards were all cut from one tree that grew in the garden, 
and that the roots furnished the great semicircular steps that 
lead up to the room. The compartments of the bay-windows 
are adorned with armorial bearings of different owners of the 
place, and from them are obtained some of those ravishing 
landscape views for which England is so famous — silvery 
stream, spanned by rustic bridges, as it meandered off to- 
wards green meadows ; the old park, with splendid group of 
oaks ; the distant village, with its ancient church ; and all 
those picturesque objects that contribute to make the picture 
perfect. 

We now wend our way through other rooms, with the old 
Gobelin tapestry upon the walls, with the pictured story of 
Moses still distinct upon its wondrous folds, and into rooms 
compai-atively modern, that have been restored, kept, and 
used within the past century. Here is one with furniture of 
green and damask, chairs and state bed, and hung with Gobe- 






A FAMILIAR SCENE. 115 

'm tapestry, with Esop's fables wrought upon it. Here, again, 
he rude carving, massive oak-work, and ill-constructed join- 
ng, tell of the olden time. 

But we must not leave Haddon Hall without passing 
through the ante-room, as it is called, and out into the garden 
on Dorothy Vernon's "Walk. On our way thither the guide lifts 
up occasionally the arras, or tapestry, and shows us those con- 
cealed doors and passages of which we have read so often in 
the books ; and now that I think of it, it was here at Haddon 
Hall that many of the wild and romantic ideas were obtained 
by Mrs. Radcliffe for that celebrated old-fashioned romance, 
" The Mysteries of Udolpho." 

The "garden of Haddon," writes S. C. Hall, "has been, 
time out of mind, a treasure store of the English landscape 
painter, and one of the most favorite 'bits' being 'Dorothy 
Vernon's Walk,' and the door out of which tradition describes 
her as escaping to meet her lover, Sir John Manners, with 
whom she eloped." Haddon, by this marriage, became the 
property of the noble house of Rutland, who made it their 
residence till the commencement of the present century, when 
they removed to the more splendid castle of Belvoir ; but to 
the Duke of Rutland the tourist and those who venerate 
antiquity, owe much for keeping this fine old place from 
" improvements," and so much of it in its original and ancient 
form. 

That the landscape painters had made good and frequent 
use of the garden of Haddon I ascertained the moment I 
entered it. Dorothy's Walk, a fine terrace, shaded by limes 
and sycamores, leads to picturesque flights of marble steps, 
which I recognized as old friends that had figured in many a 
"flat" of theatrical scenery, upon many an act-drop, or been 
still more skilfully borrowed from, in effect, by the stage-car- 
penter and machinist in a set scene. Plucking a little bunch 
of wild-flowers from Dorothy's Walk, and a sprig of ivy 
from the steps down which she hurried in the darkness, 
while her friends were revelling in another part of the halL 



116 KENIL WORTH. 

we bade farewell to old Haddon, with its quaint halls, its 

court-yards, and its terraced garden, amid whose venerable 

trees 

" the air 

Seems hallowed by the breath of other times." 



CHAPTER V. 

Kenilworth Castle will in many respects disappoint 
the visitor, for its chief attraction is the interest with which 
Walter Scott has invested it in his vivid description of the 
Earl of Leicester's magnificent pageant on the occasion of the 
reception of his royal mistress, Queen Elizabeth. And the 
host of visitors who make the pilgrimage to this place, so 
hallowed by historical associations, may be classed as pilgrims 
doing homage to the genius of Scott. I find, on looking up 
Kenilworth's history, that it was here that " old John of Gaunt, 
time-honored Lancaster," dwelt; here also his son Boling- 
broke, afterwards Henry IV., and Prince Hal, when he was 
a jovial, roistering sack-drinker; here Henry VI. retired 
during the Jack Cade rebellion ; Richard III. has held high 
revel in the great hall; Henry VII. and bluff Hal VIII. 
have feasted there with their nobles; but, after all, the 
visitor goes to see the scene where, on the 9th of July, 1575, 
was such a magnificent fete as that described by the novelist. 

We walked through the village and on towards the castle, 
through the charming English scenery I have described so 
often, the gardens gay with roses and the banks of the road 
side rich with wild flowers, a fair blue sky above, and the 
birds joyous in the hedges and woods. This was the avenuo 
that led towards the Gallery Tower, through which rode 
Elizabeth with a cavalcade illuminated by two hundred wax 
torches of Dudley's retainers, the blaze of which flashed upon 
her sparkling jewels as she rode in stately style upon her 



SCENES FROM SCOTT'S NOVEL. 117 

milk-white - charger — the avenue now a little rustic load, 
with a wealth of daisies on its banks ; proudly rode Leices- 
ter at her side, who, Scott says, " glittered, like a golden image, 
with jewels and cloth of gold." 

On we go to where the long bridge extended from the Gal- 
lery Tower to Mortimer's Tower, which the story tells us 
was light as day with the torches. A mass of crumbling 
ruins is all that remains of the two towers now ; and after 
passing by the end of a great open space, known as the Tilt 
Yard, we come in sight of the principal ruins of the castle. 
We go through a little gateway, — Leicester's gateway; R. 
D. is carved on the porch above it, — and we are in the midst 
of the picturesque and crumbling walls, half shrouded in their 
green, graceful mantle of ivy. Here we find Caesar's Tower, 
the Great Hall, Leicester's Buildings, the Strong Tower, 
which is the Mervyn's Tower of the story, the one into which 
the unfortunate Amy Robsart was conveyed while waiting for 
a visit from Leicester during the festivities of the royal visit. 

The Great Hall was a room of magnificent dimensions, 
nearly one hundred feet long by fifty broad, and, as one may 
judge from its ruins, beautiful in design. One oriel of the 
many arched windows is a beautiful bit of picturesque ruin, 
and through it a most superb landscape view is commanded. 
You are shown " The Pleasauce," the place in the little garden 
near the castle which was the scene of Queen Elizabeth's 
encounter with Amy Robsart, and which still is called by the 
same name. The part of the castle built by the Earl of 
Leicester in 1571, known as Leicester's Buildings, are crum- 
bling to decay, and is far less durable than some of the other 
massive towers. 

The outer walls of Kenilworth Castle encompassed an area 
of seven acres ; but walls and tower, great hall and oriel, are 
now but masses of ruined masonry, half shrouded in a screen 
of ivy, and giving but a feeble idea of what the castle was 
in its days of pride, when graced by Queen Elizabeth and 
her court, and made such a scene of splendor and regal mag 
mfieenee as to excite even the admiration of the sovereign 



118 STRATFOKD-ON-AVON. 

herself. Time has marked the proud castle with its ineffaDie 
signet, and notwil hstanding the aid of imagination, Kenil- 
worth seems but a mere ghost of the past. 

From Kenilworth Castle we took train for Stratfor<l-on- 
Avon, — the place which no American would think of leav- 
ing England without visiting, — a quiet little English town, 
but whose inns have yearly visitors from half the nations of 
the civilized world, pilgrims to this shrine of genius, the birth- 
place of him who wrote " not for a day, but all time." A quainl , 
old-fashioned place is Stratford, with here and there a house 
that might have been in existence during the poet's tmfe; 
indeed, many were, for I halted opposite the grammar school, 
which was founded by Henry IV., and in which Will 
Shakespeare studied and was birched ; the boys were out to 
play in the little square close, or court yard, and as I entered 
through the squat, low doorway, which, like many of these 
old buildings in England, seems compressed or shrunk with 
age, I was surrounded by the whole troup of successors of 
Shakespeare, the gates closed, and my deliverance only pur- 
chased by payment of six-pence. 

That antique relic of the past, the poet's birthplace, which 
we at once recognize from the numerous pictures we have 
seen of it, I stood before with a feeling akin to that of ven- 
eration — something like that which must fill the mind of a 
pilgrim who has travelled a weary journey to visit the shrine 
of some celebrated saint. 

It is an odd, and old-fashioned mass of wood and plaster. 
The very means that have been taken to preserve it seem 
almost a sacrilege, the fresh paint upon the wood-work out- 
side, that shone in the spring sunlight, the new braces, plas- 
ter and repairs here and there, give the old building the air 
of an old man, an octogenarian, say, who had discarded his 
old-time rags and tatters for a suit of new cloth cut in old 
style ; but something must, of course, be done to preserve the 
structure from crumbling into the dust beneath the inexo- 
rable hand of time, albeit it was of substantial oak, filled in 
with plaster, but has undergone many " improvements " since 
the poet's time. 



AUTOGRAPHIC MEMORIALS. 119 

The first room we visit in the house is the kitchen with its 
wide chimney, the kitchen in which John Shakespeare and 
his son Will so often sat, where he watched the Mazing logs, 
and listened to strange legends of village gossips, or stories 
of old crones, or narratives of field and flood, and fed his 
young imagination to the full with that food which gave such 
lusty life to it in after years. Here was a big arm-chair — 
Shakespeare's chair, of course, as there was in 1820, when our 
co untryman Washington Irving visited the place ; but inasmuch 
as the real chair was purchased by the Princess Czartoryska 
in 1790, one cannot with a knowledge of this fact feel very 
enthusiastic over this. 

From the kitchen we ascend into the room in which the 
poet was born — a low, rude apartment, with huge beams and 
plastered walls, and those walls one mosaic mass of pencilled 
autographs and inscriptions of visitors to this shrine of genius. 
One might spend hours in deciphering names, inscriptions, 
rhymes, aphorisms, &c, that are thickly written upon every 
square inch of space, in every style of chirography and in 
every language : even the panes of glass in the windows have 
not escaped, but are scratched all over with autographs by 
the diamond rings of visitors ; and among these signatures I 
saw that of Walter Scott. At the side of the fireplace in 
this room is the well-known actor's pillar, a jamb of the fire- 
place thickly covered with the autographs of actors who have 
visited here; among the names I noticed the signatures of 
Charles Kean, Edmund Kean, and G. V. Brooke. Visitors 
are not permitted now to write upon any portion of the build- 
ing, and are always closely accompanied by a guide, in order 
that no portion of it may be cut and carried away by relic- 
hunters. 

The visitors' book which is kept here is a literary as well 
as an autographic curiosity ; it was a matter of regret to me 
that I had only time to run over a few of the pages of its 
different volumes filled with the writing of all classes, from 
prince to peasant, and in every language and character, even 
those of Turkish, Hebrew, and Chinese. The following, I 
think, w T as from the pen of Prince Lucien : — 



120 SHAKESPEARIAN KELIUB. 

" The eye of genius glistens to admire 
How memory hails the soul of Shakespeare r s lyre. 
One tear I'll shed to form a crystal shrine 
For all that's grand, immortal, and divine." 

And the following were furnished me as productions, the first 
of Washington Irving, and the second of Hackett, the well- 
known comedian, and best living representative of Falstaff : — 

"Of mighty Shakespeare's birth the room we see; 
The where he died in vain to find we try; 
Useless the search, for all immortal he, 
And those who are immortal never die." 

" Shakespeare, thy name revered is no less 
By us who often reckon, sometimes guess. 
Though England claims the glory of thy birth, 
None more appreciate thy page's worth, 
None more admire thy scenes well acted o'er, 
Than we of states unborn in ancient lore." 

The room in which the poet was born remains very nearly 
in its original state, and, save a table, an ancient chair or two, 
and a bust of Shakespeare, is without furniture ; but another 
upper room is devoted to the exhibition of a variety of inter- 
esting relics and mementos. Not the least interesting of 
these was the rude school desk, at which Master Will conned 
his lessons at the grammar school. A sadly-battered affair it 
was, with the little lid in the middle raised by rude leather 
hinges, and the whole of it hacked and cut in true school-boy 
style. Be it Shakespeare's desk or not, we were happy in the 
belief that it was, and sat down at it, thinking of the time 
when the young varlet crept "like a snail unwillingly to 
school," and longed for a release from its imprisonment, to 
bathe in the cool Avon's rippling waters, or start off on a dis- 
tant ramble with his schoolmates to Sir Thomas Lucy's oak 
groves and green meadows. 

Next we came to the old sign of " The Falcon," which 
swung over the hostelrie of that name at Bedford, seven 
miles from Stratford, where Shakespeare and his associates 
drank too deeply, as the story goes, which Washington Irving 



INTERESTING MEMENTOES. 121 

reproduces in his charming sketch of Stratford-on-Avon in 
the Sketch Book. Here is Shakespeare's jug, irom which 
Da"\ id Garrick sipped wine at the Shakespeare Jubilee, held 
in 1758 ; an ancient chair from the Falcon Inn, called Shake- 
speare's Chair, and said to have been the one in which he sat 
when he held his club meetings there ; Shakespeare's gold 
signet-ring, with the initials W. S., enclosed in a true-lover'y 
knot. Among the interesting documents were a letter from 
.Richard Quyney to Shakespeare, asking for a loan of thirty 
pounds, which is said to be the only letter addressed to Shake- 
speare known to exist; a " conveyance," dated October 15, 
1579, from " John Shackspere and Mary his wyeffe " (Shake- 
speare's parents) " to Robt. Webbe, of their moitye of 2 mes- 
suages or tenements in Snitterfield ; " an original grant of four 
yard lands, in Stratford fields, of William and John Combe to 
Shakespeare, in 1602 ; a deed with the autograph of Gilbert 
Shakespeare, brother of the poet, 1609; a declaration in an 
action in court of Shakespeare v. Philip Rogers, to recover a 
bill for malt sold bj Shakespeare, 1604. 

Then there were namerous engravings and etchings of various 
old objects of interest in and about Stratford, various portraits 
of the poet, eighteen sketches, illustrating the songs and ballads 
of Shakespeare, done by the members of the Etching Club, and 
presented by them to this collection. Among the portraits is 
one copied in crayon from the Chandos portrait, said to have 
been painted when Shakespeare was about forty-three, and 
one of the best portraits extant — an autographic document 
beaiing the signature of Sir Thomas Lucy, the original Justic 
Shallow, owner of the neighboring estate of Charlecote, upon 
which Shakespeare was arrested for deer-stealing. These, 
and other curious relics connected with the history of tie 
poet, were to us possessed of so much interest that we quil o 
wore out the patience of the good dame who acted as custo- 
dian, and she was relieved by her daughter, who was put in 
smiling good humor by our purchase of stereoscopic views at 
a shilling each, which can be had in London at six-pence, and 
chatted away merrily till we bade farewell to the poet's birth- 



122 THE VILLAGE PASTRY COOK. 

place, nnd started off adown the pleasant village street for 
the little church upon the banks of the River Avon, which is 
his last resting-place. 

However sentimental, poetical, or imaginative one may be, 
there comes a time when the cravings of appetite assert 
themselves ; and vulgar and inappropriate as it was, we 
found ourselves exceedingly hungry here in Stratford, and we 
went into a neat bijou of a pastry cook's — we should call it 
a confectioner's shop in America, save that there was nothing 
but cakes, pies, bread, and pastry for sale. The little shop 
was a model of neatness and compactness. Half a dozen 
persons woidd have crowded the space outside the counter, 
which was loaded with fresh, lightly-risen sponge cakes, rice 
cakes, puffs, delicious flaky pastry, fruit tarts, the preserves in 
them clear as amber, fresh, white, close-grained English bread, 
and heaps of those appetizing productions of pure, unadulter- 
ated pastry, that the English pastry baker knows so well how 
to prepare. The bright young English girl, in red cheeks, 
modest dress, and white apron, who served us, was, to use an 
English expression, a very nice young person, and, in answer 
to our queries and praises of her wares, told us that herself 
and her mother did the fancy baking of pies and cakes, a 
man baker whom they employed doing the bread and heavy 
work. The gentry, the country round, were supplied from 
their shop. How long had they been there? 

She and mother had always been there. The shop had 
been in the family over seventy years. 

"Just like the English," said one of the party, aside. " It's 
not at all astonishing they make such good things, having 
had seventy years' practice." 

And this little incident is an apt illustration of how a busi- 
ness is kept in one family, and in one place, generation after 
generation, in England; so different from our country, where 
the sons of the poor cobbler or humble artisan of yesterday 
may be the proud aristocrat of to-day. 

There is nothing remarkable about the pleasant church of 
Stratford, which contains the poet's grave. It is situated near 



STRATFORD CHURCH. 123 

the banks of the Avon, and the old sexton escorted us through 
an avenue of trees to its great Gothic door, which he un- 
locked, and we were soon before the familiar monument, 
which is in a niche in the chancel. It is the well-known, half- 
length figure, above which is his coat of arms, surmounted by 
a skull, and upon either side figures of Cupid, one holding an 
inverted torch, and the other a skull and a spade. Beneath 
the cushion, upon which the poet is represented as writing, is 
this inscription : — 

"Jvdicio Ptuvm Genio Socratem Arte Maronem Terra TEGir 
Popvlvs IVLeret Olympvs Habet. 

•' Stay, passenger; why goest thou by so fast? 
Eead, if thou canst, whom envious death hath plast 
Within this monument : Shakespeare, with whome 
Qvicke natvre died; whose name doth deck ys tombe 
Far more then cost ; sith all yt he hath writt 
Leaves living art but page to serve his witt. 
" Obiit Ano Doi, 1616. 
iEtatis 53, Die 23 Ap." 

This half-length figure, we are told, was originally painted 
after nature, the eyes being hazel, and the hair and beard 
auburn, the dress a scarlet doublet, slashed on the breast, over 
which was a loose, sleeveless black gown ; but in 1793 it was 
painted all over white. 

In front of the altar-rails, upon the second step leading to 
the altar, are the gravestones (marble slabs) of the Shake- 
speare family, among them a slab marking the resting-place 
of his wife, Anne (Anne Hathaway) ; and the inscription tells 
us that 

" Here lyeth interred the body of Anne, 
wife of William Shakspeare, who depted this life the 
6th day of Avg : 1623, being of the age of 67 years." 

Another slab marks the grave of Thomas Nash, who mar- 
ried the only daughter of the poet's daughter Susanna, one that 
of her father, Dr. John Hall, and another that of Susanna her- 
self; the slab bearing the poet's celebrated epitaph is, of course, 
that which most holds the attention of the visitor, and as he 



124 Shakespeare's saeegtjarp 

reads tlie inscription which has proved such a safeguard to 
the remains of its author, he cannot help feeling something of 
awe the epitaph is so threatening, so almost like a malediction. 

" Good frend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
To digg the dust encloased heare : 
Bleste be ye man yt spares thes stones, 
And cursed be he yt moves my bones." 

And it is doubtless the unwillingness to brave Shakespeare's 
curse that has prevented the removal of the poet's remains 
to Westminster Abbey, and the fear of it that will make the 
Fittle church, in the pleasant little town of Stratford, his last 
resting-place. I could not help noticing, while standing 
beside the slab that marked the poet's grave, how that par- 
ticular slab had been respected by the thousands of feet that 
had made their pilgrimage to the place ; for while the neigh- 
boring slabs and pavement were worn from the friction of 
many feet, this was comparatively fresh and rough as when 
first laid down, no one caring to trample upon the grave of 
Shakespeare, especially after having read the poet's invoca 

tion, — 

" Bleste be ye man yt spares thes stones ; " 

and so with uncovered head and reverential air he passes 
around it and not over it, although no rail or guard bars his 
steps, — that one line of magic power a more effectual bar 
than human hand could now place there. 

The little shops in the quaint little streets of Stratford, all 
make the most of that which has made their town famous ; 
and busts of Shakespeare, pictures, carvings, guide-books, 
engravings, and all sorts of mementos to attract the atten- 
tion of visitors, are displayed in their windows. A china 
ware store had Shakespeare plates and dishes, with pictorial 
representations of the poet's birthplace, Stratford church, &c, 
upon them, so that those inclined could have Shakespeare 
plates from sixpence to three shillings each, illustrating then 
visit here. 

How often I had read of the old feudal barons of Warwick, 



KiCY WARWICK AND HIS DEEDS- 125 

and their warlike deeds, which cocupy so conspicuous a place 
m England's history ! There were the old Saxon eails, and, 
most famous of all, the celebrated Guy, that every school-boy 
has read of, who was a redoubtable warrior in the time of 
Alfred the Gieat, and doubtless has in history grown in 
height as his deeds have in wonder, for he is stated to have 
been a Saxon giant nine feet high, killed a Saracen giant in 
single combat, slain a wild boar, a green dragon, and an 
enormous dun cow, although why killing a cow was any evi- 
dence of a warrior's prowess I am unable to state. But we 
saw at the porter's lodge, at the castle, as all tourists do (and 
I write it as all tourists do), a big rib of something, — it would 
answer for a whale or elephant, — which we were told was the 
rib of the cow aforesaid ; also some of the bones of the boar ; 
but when I asked the old dame, who showed the relics, if any 
of the scales of the dragon, or if any of his teeth, had been 
preserved, she said, — 

"The dragon story mightn't be true; but 'ere we 'aue the 
cow's ribs and the boar's bones, and there's no disputin' them, 
you see." 

So we didn't dispute them, nor the great tilting-pole, breast- 
plate, and fragments of armor said to have belonged to Guy, 
or the huge porridge-pot made of bronze or bell-metal, which 
holds ever so many gallons, and which modern Earls of War- 
wick sometimes use on great occasions to brew an immense 
jorum of punch in. Guy's sword, which I took an experi- 
mental swing of, required an exercise of some strength, and 
both hands, to make it describe a circle above my head, and 
must have been a trenchant blade in the hands of one able to 
wield it effectively. 

Old Guy was by no means the only staunch warrior of the 
Earls of Warwick. There was one who died in the Holy 
Land in 1184; another, who stood by Kir g John in all his 
wars with the barons ; another, who was captured in his castle ; 
another, Guy de Beauchamp, who fought for the king bravely 
in the battle of Falkirk; and another, who, under the Black 
Prince, led the van of the English army at Cressy, and 



126 WARWICK CASTLE. 

fought bravely at Poictiers, till his galled hand refused to 
grasp his battle-axe, and who went over to France and saved 
a suffering English army at Calais in 1369, and many others, 
who have left the impress of their deeds upon the pages of 
history. 

The old town of Warwick dates its foundation about A. D. 
50, and its castle in 916. Staying at the little old-fashioned 
English inn, the Warwick Arms, two of us had to dine in 
solemn state alone in a private room, the modern style of a 
table d'hote not being introduced in that establishment, which, 
although well ordered, scrupulously neat and comfortable, 
nevertheless, in furniture and general appearance, reminded 
one of the style of thirty years ago. 

Of course the lion of Warwick is the castle, and to that 
old stronghold we wend our way. The entrance is through 
a large gateway, and we pass up through a roadway or ap- 
proach to the castle, which is cut through the solid rock for a 
hundred yards or more, and emerging into the open space, 
come suddenly in view of the walls and magnificent round 
cylindrical towers. 

First there is Guy's Tower, with its walls ten feet thick, its 
base thirty feet in diameter, and rising to a height of one 
hundred and twenty-eight feet ; Caesar's Tower, built in the 
time of the Norman conquest, eight hundred years old, still 
strong and in good preservation, and between these two the 
strong castle walls, of the same description that appear in all 
pictures of old castles, with the spaces for bowmen and other 
defenders; towers, arched gateways, portcullis, double walls, 
and disused moat attest the former strength of this noted 
fortification. 

As the visitor passes through the gate of the great walls, 
and gets, as it were, into the interior of the enclosure, with 
the embattled walls, the turrets and towers on every side of 
him, he sees that the castle is a tremendous one, and its oc- 
cupant, when it was in its prime, might have exclaimed with 
better reason than Macbeth, " Our castle's strength will laugb 
a siege to scorn." 



DUNGEON AND IIALL. 127 

The scene from the interior is at once grand and romantic, 
the velvet turf and fine old trees in the spacious area of the 
court-yard harmonize well with the time-browned, ivy-clad 
towers and battlements, and a ramble upon the broad walk 
that leads around the latter is fraught with interest. We 
stood in the little sheltered nooks, from which the cross-bow- 
men and arquebusiers discharged their weapons ; we looked 
down into the grass-grown moat, climbed to the top of G u v'g 
Tower, and saw the charming landscape; went below Caasar's 
Tower into the dismal dungeons where prisoners were con- 
fined and restrained by an inner grating from even reaching 
the small loophole that gave them their scanty supply of 
fight and air ; and here we saw where some poor fellow had 
laboriously cut in the rock, as near the light as he could, the 
record of his weary confinement of years, with a motto at- 
tached, in quaint style of spelling ; and finally, after visiting 
grounds, towers, and walls, went into the great castle proper, 
now kept in repair, elegantly furnished and rich in pictures, 
statues, arms, tapestry, and antiquities. 

The first apartment we entered was the entrance, or Great 
Hall, which was hung with elegant armor of all ages, of rare 
and curious patterns : the walls of this noble hall, which is 
sixty-two feet by forty, are wainscoted with fine old oak, 
embrowned with age, and in the Gothic roofing are carved 
the Bear and Ragged Staff" of Robert Dudley's crest; also, the 
coronet and shields of the successive earls from the year 
1220. Among the curiosities here were numerous specimens 
of old-fashioned fire-arms, and one curious old-fashioned re- 
volving pistol, made two hundred years before Colt's pistols 
were invented, and which I was assured the American re- 
peatedly visited ' before he perfected the weapon that bears 
his name. The same story, however, was afterwards told me 
about an old revolver in the Tower of London, and I think 
also in another place in England, and the exhibitors seemed 
to think Colonel Colt had only copied an old English affiiii 
that they had thrown aside : however, this did not ruffle my 
national pride to any great degree, inasmuch as I ascertained 



128 WEAPONS AND P1CTUEES. 

that about all leading American inventions of any importance 
are regarded by these complacent Britons as having had their 
origin in their " tight little island." There were the English 
steel cross-bows, which must have projected their bolts with 
tremendous forces ; splendid Andrea Ferrara rapiers, weapons 
three hundred years old, and older, of exquisite temper and 
the most beautiful and intricate workmanship, inlaid with 
gold and silver, and the hilt and scabbards of elegant steel 
filigree work. Among the curious relics was Ciorn well's 
helmet, the armor worn by the Marquis Montrose when he 
led the rebellion, Prince Rupert's armor, a gun from the 
battle-field of Marston Moor, a quilted armor jacket of King 
John's soldiers ; magnificent antlered stags' heads are also 
suspended from the walls, while from the centre of the hall 
one can see at a single glance through the whole of the grand 
suite of apartments, a straight line of three hundred and 
thirty feet. From the great Gothic windows you look down 
below, one hundred and twenty feet distant, to the River Avon, 
and over an unrivalled picturesque landscape view — another 
evidence that those old castle-builders had an eye to the 
beautiful as well as the substantial. Looking from this great 
hall to the end of a passage, we saw Vandyke's celebrated 
picture of Charles I. on horseback, with baton in hand, one 
end resting upon his thigh. I had seen copies of it a score 
of times, but the life-like appearance of the original made me 
inclined to believe in the truth of the story that Sir Joshua 
Reynolds once offered five hundred guineas for it. Vandyke 
appears to have been a favorite with the earl, as there are 
many of his pictures in the ravishing collection that adorns 
the apartments of the castle. 

The apartments of the castle are all furnished in exquisite 
taste, some with rich antique furniture, harmonizing with the 
rare antiques, vases, cabinets, bronzes, and china that is 
scattered through them in rich profusion, and to attempt to 
give a detailed description would require the space of a vol- 
ume. The paintings, however, cannot tail to attract the at- 
tention, although the time allowed to look at them is little 



DRAWING ROOMS. 12U 

short of aggravation. There is a Dutch B urge master, by 
Renibrarjdt; the Wife of Snyder, by Vandyke, a beautiful 
painting; Spinola, by Rubens; the Family of Charles I., by 
Vandyke ; Circe, by Guido ; A Lady, by Sir Peter Lely ; a Girl 
blowing Babbles, by Murillo; a magnificently executed full- 
length picture of Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, 
originally painted by Rubens for the Jesuits' College of Ant- 
werp, and so striking as to exact exclamations of admiration 
even from those inexperienced in art. One lovely little room, 
called the Boudoir, is perfectly studded with rare works of 
art — Henry VIII. by Hans Holbein, Barbara Villiers by 
Lely, Boar Hunt by Rubens, A Saint by Andrea del Sarto, 
Road Scene by Teniers, Landscape by Salvator Rosa. Just 
see what a feast for the lover oi art even these comparatively 
few works of the great masters afford ; and the walls of the 
rooms were crowded with them, the above being only a few 
selected at random, as an indication of the priceless value of 
the collection. 

In the Red Drawing-room we saw a grand Venetian mirror 
in its curious and rich old frame, a rare cabinet of tortoise 
shell and ivory, buhl tables of great richness, and a. beautiful 
table that once belonged to Marie Antoinette, besides ancient 
bronzes, Etruscan vases, &c. In the Cedar Drawing-room 
stood Hiram Powers's bust of Proserpine, and superb tables 
bearing rare vases and specimens of wonderful enamelled 
work, and a species of singular china and glass ware, in which 
raised metal figures appeared upon the surface, made by float- 
ing the copper and other metal upon glass — now a lost art. 
An elegant dish of this description was shown to us, said to 
be worth over a thousand pounds — a costly piece of plate, 
indeed. 

We now come to the Gilt Drawing-room, so called because 
the walls and ceiling are divided off into panels, richly gilt. 
The walls of this room are glorious with the works of great 
artists — Vandyke, Mui'illo, Rubens, Sir Peter Lely. Rich 
furniture, and a wonderful Venetian table, known as the 
"Griraani Table," of elegant mosaic work, also adorn the 
9 



130 HALLS AND FURNITURE 

apartment. In an old-fashioned square room, known as th» 
State Bedroom, is the bed and furniture of crimson velvet 
thai formerly belonged to Queen Anne. Here are the table 
that she used, and her huge old travelling trunks, adorned 
with brass-headed nails, with which her initials are wrought 
upon the lid, while above the great mantel is a full-length 
portrait of Anne, in a rich brocade dress, wearing the collar 
of the Order of the Garter, painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller. 

The great dining-hall, besides some fine pictures and an 
cient Roman busts, contains a remarkable piece of modem 
workmanship, which is known as the "Kenilworth Buffet,' ' 
and which we should denominate a large sideboard. It is an 
elaborate and magnificent specimen of wood-carving, and was 
manufactured by Cookes & Son, of Warwick, and exhibited 
in the great exhibition of 1851. The wood from which it was 
wrought was an oak tree which grew on the Kenilworth 
estate, and which, from its great age, is supposed to have been 
standing when Queen Elizabeth made her celebrated visit to 
the castle. Carvings upon it represent the entry of Queen 
Elizabeth, surrounded by her train, Elizabeth's meeting with 
Amy Robsart in the grotto, the interview between the queen 
and Leicester, and other scenes from Scott's novel of Kenil- 
worth ; also carved figures of the great men of the time — 
Sidney, Raleigh, Shakespeare, and Drake, and the arms of the 
Leicester family, and the crest, now getting familiar, of the 
Bear and Ragged Staff, with other details, such as water- 
flowers, dolphins, &c. This sideboard was presented by the 
town and county of Warwick to the present earl on his wed- 
tling day. 

But we must not linger too long in these interesting halls 
of the old feudal barons, or before their rich treasures of art. 
Time is not even given one to sit, and study, and drink in, as 
it were, the wondrous beauty and exquisite finish of the artis- 
tic gems on their walls ; so we take a parting glance at To- 
nier's Guard-room, the Duchess of Parma by Paul Veronese, 
Murillo's Court Jester, a splendidly-executed picture of 
Leicester by Sir Anthony Moore, the Card-players by Teniers, 



WARNERS HORN AND WARWICK VASE. li>l 

the Flight into Egypt by Rubens, a magnificent marble bust, 
by Chantrey, of Edward the Black Prince, in which the noble- 
ness and generosity of that brave warrior were rejjresented so 
strikingly as to make you almost raise your hat to it in pass- 
ing. Before leaving we were shown the old " warder's horn," 
with the bronze chain by which it was in old times suspended 
at the outer gate of the castle; and as I grasped it, and es* 
eayed in vain to extract a note beyond an exhausted sort of 
gioan from its bronze mouth, I remembered the many stories 
in which a warder's horn figures, in poem, romance, history, 
and fable. I think even Jack the Giant-killer blew one at 
the castle gate of one of his huge adversaries. An inscrip- 
tion on the Warwick horn gives the date of 1598. 

Leaving the apartments of the castle, and passing through 
a portcullis in one of the walls, and over a bridge thrown 
across the moat, we proceeded to the green-house, rich in rare 
flowers and plants, and in the centre of whLn stands the far- 
famed Warwick Vase. The shape of this vase is familiar to 
all from the innumerable copies of it that have been made., 
It is of pure white marble, executed after pure Grecian de- 
sign, and is one of the finest specimens of ancient sculpture 
in existence. While looking upon its exquisite proportions 
and beautiful design, we can hardly realize that, compared 
with it in years, old Warwick Castle itself is a modern struc- 
ture. The description of it states the well-known fact that it 
was found at the bottom of a lake near Tivoli, by Sir William 
Hamilton, then ambassador at the court of Naples, from 
whom it was obtained by the Earl of Warwick. Its shape is 
circular, and its capacity one hundred and thirty-six gallons. 
Its two large handles are formed of interwoven vine-branches, 
from which the tendrils, leaves, and clustering grapes spread 
around the upper margin. The middle of the body is en- 
folded by a panther skin, with head and claws elegantly cut 
and finished. Above are the heads of satyrs, bound with 
wreaths of ivy, the vine-clad spear of Bacchus, and the well- 
known crooked staff of the Augurs. 

LeaAing the depository of the vase, we sauntered out be- 



132 A QUIET OLD TOWN. 

neath the shade of the great trees, and looked across the vel- 
vet lawn to the gentle Avon flowing in the distance, and went 
on till Ave gained a charming view of the river front of the 
castle, with its towers and old mill, the ruined arches of an 
old bridge, and an English church tower rising in the distance, 
forming one of those pictures which must be such excellent 
capital for the landscape painter. On the banks of the Avon, 
and in the park of the castle, we were shown some of the dark 
old cedars of Lebanon, brought home, or grown from those 
brought home, from the Holy Land by the Warwick and his 
retainers who wielded their swords there against the infidel. 

Some of the quiet old streets of Warwick seemed, from 
their deserted apjiearance, to be almost uninhabited, were it 
not for here and there a little shop, and the general tidy, 
swept up appearance of everything. A somnolent, quaint, 
aristocratic old air seemed to hang over them, and I seemed 
transported to some of those quiet old streets at the North 
End, in Boston, or Salem of thirty years ago, which were 
then untouched by the advance of trade, and sacred to old 
residents, old families, whose stone door-stoops were spot- 
lessly clean, whose brass door-knobs and name-plates shone 
like polished gold, and whose neat muslin curtains at the little 
front windows were fresh, airy, and white as the down of a 
thistle. 

I stopped at a little shop in Warwick to make a purchase, 
and the swing of the door agitated a bell that was attached 
to it, and brought out, from a little sombre back parlor, the 
old lady, in a clean white cap, who waited upon occasional 
customers that straggled in as I did. How staid, and quaint, 
and curious these stand-still old English towns, clinging to 
their customs half a century old, seem to us restless, uneasy, 
and progressive Yankees ! 

Our next ramble was down one of these quiet old streets 
to the ancient nospital, founded by Robert Dudley, Earl of 
Leicester, in 1571, for a "master and twelve brethren," the 
brethren to be either deserving retainers of the earl's family, or 
those who had been wounded under the conduct of Leicester 



THREE HUNDRED ^ EARS AGO. 133 

or bis heirs. These "brethren" are now appointed from 
Warwick and Gloucester, and have an allowance of eighty 
pounds, besides the privilege of the house. The edifice is 
a truly interesting building, and is one of the very few that 
escaped a general conflagration of the town of Warwick in 
1694, and is at this time one of the most perfect specimens of 
the half-timber edifices which exist in the country. Quaint 
and curious it looks indeed, massive in structure, brown with 
age, a wealth of useless lumber about it, high-pointed over- 
hanging gables, rough carvings along the first story, a broad, 
low archway of an entrance, the oak trimmings hardened like 
iron, and above the porch the crest of the Bear and Ragged 
Staff, the initials R. L., and the date 1571. 

And only to think of the changes that three hundred years 
have wrought in the style of architecture, as well as comfort 
and convenience in dwelling-houses, or in structures like this ! 
We were almost inclined to laugh at the variegated carving 
of the timber-work upon the front of this odd relic of the past, 
as suggestive of a sign of an American barber's shop, but 
which, in its day, was doubtless considered elegant and 
artistic. 

It stands a trifle raised above the street, upon a sort ol 
platform, and the sidewalk of the street itself here passes un- 
der the remains of an old tower, built in the time of Richard 
II., and said to have been on the line of walls of defence of 
the city. The hinges, on which the great gate of this part of 
the fortification were hung, are still visible, and pointed out 
to visitors. 

Let us enter Leicester's magnificent hospital, an ostenta- 
tious charity in 1571 ; but how squat, odd, and old-fashioned 
did the low-ceiled little rooms look now ! how odd the pas- 
sages were formed ! what quaint, curious old windows ! how 
rich the old wood-work looked, saturated with the breath of 
time ! and here was the great kitchen, with its big fireplace — 
the kitchen where a mug of beer a day, I think, is served, and 
where the "brethren" are allowed to smoke their long, clay 
pipes; a row of their beer tankards (what a national be v. 



134 Leicester's hospital. 

eragc beer is in England !) glittered on the dresser Here 
also hung the uniform which the " brethren " are obliged by 
statute always to wear when they go out, which consists of a 
handsome blue broadcloth gown, with a silver badge of a 
Bear and Ragged Staff suspended on the left sleeve behind. 
These badges, now in use, are the identical ones that were 
worn by the first brethren appointed by Lord Leicester, and 
the names of the original wearers, and the date, 1571, are en- 
graved on the back of each ; one only of these badges was 
ever lost, and that about twenty-five years ago, when it cost 
five guineas to replace it. In what was once the great hall is 
a tablet, stating that King James I. was once sumptuously 
entertained there by Sir Fulke Greville, and no doubt had his 
inordinate vanity flattered, as his courtiers were wont to do, 
and his gluttonous appetite satisfied. Sitting in the very 
chair he occupied when there, I did not feel that it was much 
honor to occupy the seat of such a learned simpleton as 
Elizabeth's successor proved to be. 

Very interesting relics were the two little ancient pieces of 
embroidery preseiwed here, which were wrought by the fair 
fingers of the ill-fated Amy Robs art, wife of Leicester; one 
a fragment of satin, with the everlasting Bear and Staff 
wrought upon it, and the other a sort of sampler, the only 
authentic relic of anything belonging to this unhappy lady 
known to exist. 

At the rear of the hospital is a fine old kitchen garden, in 
which the brethren each have a little portion set apart to cul- 
tivate themselves, and where they can also enjoy a quiet 
smoke and a fine view at the same time ; and this hospital is 
the most enduring monument that Leicester has left behind 
him : his once magnificent abode at Kenilworth is but a heap 
of ruins, and the proud estate, a property of over twenty 
miles in circumference, wrested from him by the government 
of Ills time, never descended to his family. Mentioning mon- 
uments to Leicester, however, reminds us of the pretentious 
one erected to him in the chapel of St. Mary's Church, which 
we visited, in Warwick, known as the Beauchamp Chapel, and 



BEAUCHAMP CHAPEL. 135 

which all lesidents of these parts denominate the "Beechum" 
Chapel — named from the first Earl of Warwick of the Nor 
man. line, the founder (Beau champ). 

The chapel is an elegant structure, the interior heing 
fifty-eight feet long, twenty-five wide, and thirty-two high. 
Over the doorway, on entering, we see the arms of Beau- 
champ, supported on each side hy sculptures of the Bear, 
Ragged Staff, oak leaves, &c. The fine old time-blackened 
seats of oak are richly and elaborately carved, and above, in 
the groined roof, are carved shields, bearing the quarterings 
of the Earls of Warwick ; but the great object of interest is the 
tomb of the great Earl of Warwick, which this splendid 
chapel was built to enshrine. It is a large, square, marble 
structure, situated in the centre of the building, elegantly and 
elaborately carved with ornamental work, and containing, in 
niches, fourteen figures of lords and ladies, designed to repre- 
sent relatives of the deceased, while running around the edge, 
cut into brass, is the inscription, in Old English characters. 
Upon the top of this tomb lies a full-length bronze or brass effigy 
of the great earl, sheathed in full suit of armor, — breastplate, 
cuishes, greaves, &c, — complete in all its details, and finished 
even to the straps and fastenings ; the figure is not attached, 
but laid upon the monument, and its back is finished as per- 
fectly as the front in all its equipments and correctness of 
detail. The head, which is uncovered, rests upon the helmet, 
and the feet of the great metal figure upon a bear and a 
griffin. Above this recumbent figure is a sort of rail-work of 
curved strips and thick transverse rods of brass, over which,, 
in old times, hung a pall, or curtain, to shield this wondrous 
effigy from the dust ; and a marvel of artistic work it is, one 
of the finest works of the kind of the middle ages in exist- 
ence, for the earl died in 1439; and another curious relic 
must be the original agreement or contract for its construction, 
wh;ch ; I was told, is still in existence. 

Robert Dudley, Queen Elizabeth's Leicester, has an elabo- 
rately-executed monument in the chapel, consisting of a sort 
of altar-tomb, beneath a canopy supported by Corinthian 



136 "lying like a tombstone. 

pillars. Upon the tomb are recumbent cfagies of Leicester 
and his Countess Lettice, while an inscription sets forth the 
many titles of the deceased, and concludes that, " his most 
sorrowful wife, Lsetitia, through a sense of conjugal love and 
fidelity, hath put up this monument to the best and dearest 
of husbands" 

I have heard of the expression "lying like a tombstone, 11 
before I ever saw Robert Dudley's monument ; but it seemed 
now that I must be before the very one from whence the 
adage was derived, unless all of that which is received by 
the present generation as the authentic history of this man 
and the age in Avhich he lived be thrown aside as a worthless 
fable. Indeed, there were those of the generation fifty years 
ago who felt an equal contempt at this endeavor to send a lie 
down to posterity, for in an odd old, well-thumbed volume of 
a History of the Town of Warwick, published in 1815, which 
I found lying in one of the window-seats of the Warwick 
Arms, where I seated myself to wait for dinner on my return, 
I found this passage, which is historical truth and justice 
concentrated into such a small conrpass, that I transferred it 
at once into my note-book. Having referred to the Earl of 
Leicester's (Robert Dudley's) monument, the writer goes on 
as follows : — 

" Under the arch of this grand monument is placed a Latin 
inscription, which proclaims the honors bestowed with pro- 
fusion, but without discernment, upon the royal favorite, who 
owed his future solely to his personal attractions, for of moral 
worth or intellectual ability he had none. Respecting his 
two great military employments, here so powerfully set forth, 
prudence might have recommended silence, since on one 
occasion he acquired no glory, as he had no opportunity, 
and on the other the opportunity he had he lost, and returned 
home covered with deep and deserved disgrace. That he 
should be celebrated, even on a tomb, for conjugal affectrm 
and fidelity, must be thought still more remarkable by those 
who recollect that, according to every appearance of proba- 
bility, he poisoned his first wife, disowned his second, dishonored 



MUGBY JUNCTION. 137 

his third before he married her, and, in order to marry her, 
murdered her former husband. To all this it may be added, 
that his only surviving son, an infant, was a natural child, by 
Lady Sheffield. If his widowed countess did really mourn, as 
she here affects, it is believed that into no other eye but hers, 
and perhaps that of his infatuated queen, did a single tear 
stray, when, September 4, 1588, he ended a life, of which 
the external splendor, and even the affected piety and ostenta- 
tious charity, were but vain endeavors to conceal or soften the 
black enormity of its guilt and shame." 

In the chapel are monuments to others of the Warwicks, 
including one to Leicester's infant son, who is said to have 
been poisoned by his nurse at three years of age, and who is 
called, on his tomb, " the noble Impe Robert of Dudley," and 
another to Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, brother to 
Leicester, and honorably distinguished, as a man, for his vir- 
tues, as the other for his crimes. 

We go from Warwick to Oxford by rail ; but I must not 
omit to mention that in one of our excursions not far from 
Warwick, as the train stopped at Rugby junction, the "Mug- 
by junction " that Dickens has described, we visited the re- 
freshment-room, and got some very good sandwiches, and 
were very well served by the young ladies at the counter ; 
indeed, Dickens's sketch has been almost as good an advertise- 
ment for the " Mugby sandwiches " as Byron's line, " Thine 
incomparable oil, Macassar," was for Rowland's ruby com- 
pound ; and the young ladies have come to recognize Ameri- 
cans by their invariably purchasing sandwiches, and their 
inquiry, " Where is the boy ? " 

From Warwick, on our way to Oxford, we passed near 
Edgehill, the scene of the first battle of Charles I. against 
his Parliament, and halted a brief period at Banbury, whero 
an accommodating English gentleman sought out and sent 
us one of the venders of the noted " Banbury cakes," and 
who informed us that the Banbury people actually put up, 
a few years ago, a croiss, that is now standing there, from 
the fact that so many travellers stopped ia the town to 



1 38 OXFORD. 

see the Banbury Cross mentioned in the rhyme of" theii 
childhood, — 

"Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross 
To see an old woman get on a white horse," — 

who, before it was erected, went away disappointed at not 
seeing what they had set down in their minds was the lead- 
ing feature of the town, thinking that they had, in some way 
or other, been imposed upon by not finding any one in the 
place who knew of it, or cared to show it to them. 

But we will leave the old town of Warwick behind us, for 
a place still more interesting to the American tourist — a 
city which contains one of the oldest and most celebrated 
universities in Europe ; a city where Alfred the Great once 
lived ; which was stormed by William the Conqueror ; where 
Richard the Lion-hearted was born ; and where, in the reign 
of Bloody Mary, Latimer, Ridley, and Cranmer were burned 
at the stake; through whose streets the victorious parlia- 
mentary army marched, with drums beating and colors flying, 
after the battle of Naseby — Oxford. 

Oxford, that Hughes's Tom Brown at Oxford has made 
the youngsters of the present day long to see ; Oxford, that 
figures in so many of the English novels ; Oxford, where 
Verdant Green, in the novel, had so many funny experiences ; 
Oxford, where the " Great Tom " — a bell spoken of in story- 
books and nursery rhymes — is ; and a thousand other things 
that have made these celebrated old cities a sort of dream- 
land to us in America, who have longed to see the curious 
relics of the past with which they are crammed, and walk 
amid those scenes, the very descriptions of which fill one's 
mind with longings or pleasant anticipations as we hang over 
the printed pages that describe them. 

We rode in our cab to the old Mitre Tavern, and a ver\ 
old-fashioned place it is. Indeed, to the tourist, one of the 
lions of the place will be the "Mitre." The first thing 
noticeable upon entering the low-lintelcd front entrance of 
this first-class Oxforl hotel was a framework of meat-hooks 



THE MITKE TAVERN. 139 

overhead, along one side of the ceiling of the whole entrance 
corridor; and upon these were suspended mutton, beef, game, 
poultry, &c. ; in fact, a choice display of the larder of the 
establishment. I suppose this is the English " bill of fare," 
for they have no way here of letting guests know what they 
can have served at the table, other than through the servant 
who waits upon you; and his assortment, one often finds, 
dwindles down to the everlasting "chops," "'am and heggs," 
or " roast beef," " mutton," and perhaps " fowls." 

The cooking at the Mitre is unexceptionable, as, indeed, it 
is generally in all inns throughout England. The quality of 
the meats, the bread, the ale, the wines, in fact everything 
designed for the palate at this house is of the purest and 
best quality, and such as any gastronomist will, after testing 
them, cherish with fond recollections ; but the other accom- 
modations are of the most old-fashioned style. The hotel 
seems to bo a collection of old dwellings, with entrances cut 
through the walls, judging from the quaint, crooked, dark 
passages, some scarcely wide enough for two persons to pass 
each other in, and the little low-ceiled rooms, with odd, old- 
fashioned furniture, such as we used to see in our grand- 
fathers' houses forty years ago — solid mahogany four-post 
bedsteads, with chintz spreads and curtains ; old black ma- 
hogany brass-trimmed bureaus ; wash-stands, with a big hole 
cut to receive the huge crockery wash-bowl, which held a 
gallon ; feather beds, and old claw-footed chairs. 

This is the solid, old-fashioned comfort (?) an Englishman 
likes. Furthermore, you have no gas fixtures in your room. 
Gas in one's sleeping-room is said by hotel-keepers in England 
to be unhealthy, possibly because it might prevent a regula- 
tion in the charge for light which the use of candles affords. 
Upon my ringing the bell, and asking the chambermaid who 
responded — waiters and bell-boys never " answer a bell " 
here — for a fighter and more airy room than the little, square, 
one-windowed, low-ceiled apartment which was assigned me, 
I was informed that the said one-windowed box was the same 
It at Lord Sophted "halways'ad when he was down to 
Hoxford." 



140 A COLLEGE GUIDE. 

Notwithstanding this astounding information, to the sur- 
prise of the servant, I insisted upon a different room, and was 
assigned another apartment, which varied from the first by 
having two windows instead of one. The fact that Sir 
Somebody Something, or Lord Nozoo, has occupied a room, 
or praised a brand of wine, or the way a mutton chop was 
cooked, seems to be in England the credit mark that is 
expected to pass it, without question, upon every untitled 
individual who shall thereafter presume to call for it; and 
the look of unmitigated astonishment which the servant will 
bestow upon an " Hamerican " who dares to assert that any 
thing of the kind was not so good as he was accustomed to, 
and he must have better, is positively amusing. Americans 
are, however, beginning to be understood in this resjject by 
English hotel-keepers, and ai'e generally put in the best apart- 
ments — and charged the best prices. 

It would be an absurdity, in the limits permissible in a 
series of sketches like these, to attempt a detailed descrip- 
tion of Oxford and its colleges ; for there are more than a 
score of colleges, besides the churches, halls, libraries, divinity 
schools, museums, and other buildings connected with the 
university. There are some rusty old fellows, who hang 
round the hotels, and act as guides to visitors, showing them 
over a route that takes in all the principal colleges, and the 
way to the libraries, museums, &c. One of these walking 
encyclopedists of the city, as he proved to be, became our 
guide, and we were soon in the midst of those fine old mon- 
uments of the reverence for learning of past ages. Only 
think of visiting a college founded by King Alfred, or 
another whose curious carvings and architecture are of the 
twelfth century, or another founded by Edward II. in 1326, 
01 going into the old quadrangle of All Souls College, 
through the tower gateway built A. D. 1443, or the magnifi- 
cent pile of buildings founded by Cardinal Wolsey, the 
design, massive structure, and ornamentation of which were 
grand for his time, and give one some indication of the ideas 
of that ambitious prelate. 



LIFE AT OXFORD. 141 

The college buildings are in various styles of architecture, 
from the twelfth century down to the present time, most of 
them being built in form of a hollow square, the centre of 
the square being a large, pleasant grass plot, or quadrangle, 
upon which the students' windows opened. Entrance to 
these interiors or quadrangles is obtained through a Gothic 
or arched gateway, guarded by a porter in charge. The 
windows of the students' rooms were gay with many-colored 
flowers, musical with singing birds hung up in cages, while 
the interior of some that wo glanced into differed but very 
little from those of Harvard University, each being fitted or 
decorated to suit the taste of the occupant. 

In some of the old colleges, the rooms themselves were 
quaint and oddly-shaped as friars' cells ; others large, Luxuri- 
ous, and airy. Nearly all were entered through a vestibule, 
and had an outer door of oak, or one painted in imitation of 
oak ; and when this door is closed, the occupant is said to be 
" sporting his oak," which signifies that he is studying, busily 
engaged, and not at home to any one. There were certain 
quarters also more aristocratic than others, where young lord- 
lings — who were distinguished by the gold in their hat- 
bands from the untitled students — most did congregate. 
The streets and shops of Oxford indicated the composition 
of its population. You meet collegians in gowns and 
trencher caps, snuffy old professors, with their silk gowns 
flying out behind in the wind, young men in couples, young 
men in stunning outfits, others in natty costumes, others 
artistically got up. ; tradesmen's boys carrying bundles of mer- 
chandise, and washer or char w,omen, in every direction in 
the vicinity of the colleges. 

Splendid displays are made in the windows of tailors' and 
furnishing goods stores — boating uniforms, different articles 
of dress worn as badges, stunning neck-ties, splendidly got up 
dress boots, hats, gloves, museums of canes, sporting whips, 
cricket bats, and thousands of attractive novelties to induce 
students to invest loose cash, or do something more common, 
"run up a bill;" and if these bills are sometimes not paid 



142 THE GEE AT TOM. 

till years afterwards, the prices charged for this species of 
credit are such as prove remunerative to the tradesmen, who 
lose much less than might be supposed, as men generally 
make it a matter of principle to pay their college debts. 

The largest and most magnificent of the quadrangles is 
that of Christ Church College. It is two hundred and sixty- 
four feet by two hundred and sixty-one, and formed part of 
the original design of Wolsey, who founded this college. 
This noble quadrangle is entered through a great gate, 
known as Tom Gate, from the tower above it, which contains 
the great bell of that name, the Great Tom of Oxford, which 
weighs seventeen thousand pounds. I ascended the tower 
to see this big tocsin, which was exhibited to me with much 
pride by the porter, as being double the weight of the great 
bell in St. Paul's, in London, and upon our descending, was 
shown the rope by which it was rung, being assured that, 
notwithstanding the immense weight of metal, it was so 
hung that a very moderate pull would sound it. Curiosity 
tempted me, when the porter's back was turned, to give a 
smart tug at the rope, which swung invitingly towards my 
hand ; and the pull elicited a great boom of bell metal above 
that sounded like a musical artillery discharge, and did not 
tend to render the custodian desirous of prolonging my visit 
at that part of the college. 

The dining-hall of Christ Church College is a notable 
apartment, and one that all tourists visit ; it is a noble hall, 
one hundred and thirteen feet by forty, and fifty feet in 
height. The roof is most beautifully carved oak, with ar- 
morial bearings, and decorations of Henry VIII. and Cardinal 
Wolsey, and was executed in 1529. Upon the walls hangs 
the splendid collection of original portraits, which is one of its 
most interesting features, many of them being works of great 
artists, and representations of those eminent in the history 
of the university. Here hangs Holbein's original portrait 
of King Henry VIIL, — from which all the representations 
of the bluff polygamist that we are accustomed to see are 
taken, — Queen Elizabeth's portrait, that of Cardinal Wolsey, 



BODLEIAK LIBRARY. 143 

Bishop Fell, Marquis Wellesley, John Locke, and over a hun- 
dred others of " old swells, bishops, and lords chiefly, who have 
endowed the college in some way," as Tom Brown says. 

Indeed, many of the most prominent men of English his- 
tory have studied at Oxford — Sir Walter Raleigh, the Black 
Prince, Hampden, Butler, Addison, Wycliffe, Archbishop 
Laud, and statesmen, generals, judges, and authors without 
number. Long tables and benches are ranged each side of 
the room ; upon a dais at its head, beneath the great bow 
window, and Harry VIII.'s picture, is a sort of privileged 
table, at which certain officers and more noble students dine 
on the fat of the land. Next comes the table of the " gentle- 
man commoners," a trifle less luxuriously supplied, and at 
the foot of the hall " the commoners," whose pewter mugs 
and the marked difference in the style of their table furniture 
indicate the distinctions of title, wealth, and poor gentlemen. 

After a peep at the big kitchen of this college, which has 
been but slightly altered since the building was erected, and 
which itself was the first one built by Wolsey in his col- 
lege, we turned our steps to that grand collection of literary 
wealth — the Bodleian Library. 

The literary wealth of this library, in one sense, is almost 
incalculable. I was fortunate enough to make the acquaint- 
ance of Dr. Hachman, a graduate of the university and one 
of the librarians, and through his courtesy enabled to see 
many of the rare treasures of this priceless collection, that 
would otherwise have escaped our notice. 

Here we looked upon the first Latin Bible ever printed, 
the first book printed in the English language, by Caxton, at 
Bruges, in 1472, and the first English Bible, printed by Miles 
Coverdale. Here was the very book that Pope Gregory sent 
to Augustin when he went to convert the Britons, and which 
may have been the same little volume that he held in his 
hand when he pleaded the faith of the Redeemer to the Saxon 
King Ethelbert, whom he converted from his idolatrous belief 
twelve hundred years ago. I looked with something like 
veneration upon a little shelf containing about twenty five 



144 LITERARY TREASURES. 

volumes of first editions of books from the presses of Caxton, 
Guttenberg, and Faust, whose money value is said to be twenty- 
five thousand pounds ; but bibliomaniacs will well understand 
that no money value can be given to such treasures. 

We were shown a curious old Bible, — a " Breeches " Bible, 
as it is called, — which has a story to it, which is this. About 
one hundred years ago this copy was purchased for the library 
at a comparatively low price, because the last ten or fifteen 
pages were missing. The volume was bound, however, and 
placed on the shelf; seventy-five years afterwards the purchas- 
ing agent of the library bought, in Rome, a quantity of old 
books, the property of a monk ; they were sent to England, 
and at the bottom of an old box, from among stray pamphlets 
and rubbish, out dropped a bunch of leaves, which proved, on 
examination and comparison, to be the very pages missing 
from the volume. They are placed, not bound in, at the 
close of the book, so that the visitor sees that they were, 
beyond a doubt, the actual portion of it that was missing. 

Ranged upon another shelf was a set of first editions of the 
old classics. In one room, in alcoves, all classified, were rich 
treasures of literature in Sanscrit, Hebrew, Coptic, and even 
Chinese and Persian, some of the latter brilliant in illumina- 
tion. Here was Tippoo Saib's Koran, with its curious charac- 
ters, and the Book of Enoch, brought from Abyssinia by 
Bruce, the African explorer ; and my kind cicerone handed 
me another volume, whose odd characters I took to be Arabic 
or Coptic, but which was a book picked up at the capture of 
Sebastopol, in the Redan, by an English soldier, and which 
proved, on examination, to be The Pickwick Papers in the 
Russian language. 

Besides these, there were specimens of all the varieties of 
illuminated books made by the monks between the years 800 
and 1000, and magnificent book-makers they were, too. This 
collection is perfect and elegant, and the specimens of the 
rarest and most beautiful description, before which, in beauty 
or execution, the most costly and elaborate illustrated books 
of our day sink into insignificance. This may seem difficult 



THE VOLUMES OF SOVEREIGN*. 140 

to believe ; but these rare old volumes, with every letter done 
by hand, their pages of beautifully prepared parchment, as thin 
as letter paper, — the colors, gold emblazonry, and all the 
different hues as bright as if laid on but a year — are a monu- 
ment of artistic skill, labor, and patience, as well as an evi- 
dence of the excellence and durability of the material used 
by the old cloistered churchmen who expended their lives 
over these elaborate productions. The illuminated Books of 
Hours, and a Psalter in purple vellum, A. D. 1000, are the 
richest and most elegant specimens of book-work I ever looked 
upon. The execution, when the rude mode and great labor 
with which it was performed are taken into consideration, 
seems little short of miraculous. These specimens of illumi- 
nated books are successively classified, down to those of our 
own time. 

Then there were books that had belonged to kings, 
queens, and illustrious or noted characters in English his- 
tory. Here was a book of the Proverbs, done on vellum, for 
Queen Elizabeth, by hand, the letters but a trifle larger than 
those of these types, each proverb in a different style of letter, 
and in a different handwriting. Near by lay a volume pre- 
sented by Queen Bess to her loving brother, with an inscrip- 
tion to that effect in the " Virgin Queen's " own handwriting. 
Then we examined the book of Latin exercises, written by 
Queen Elizabeth at school ; and it was curious to examine 
this neatly-written manuscript of school-girl's Latin, penned 
so carefully by the same fingers that afterwards signed the 
death-warrants of Mary, Queen of Scots, the Duke of Nor- 
folk, and her own favorite, Essex. Next came a copy of 
Bacon's Essays, presented by Bacon himself to the Duke of 
Buckingham, and elegantly bound in green velvet and gold, 
with the donor's miniature portrait set on the cover ; then a 
copy of th i first book printed in the English language, and a 
copy of riiny's Natural History, translated by Landino in 
1 476, Mary de Medicis' prayer-book, a royal autograph-book 
of visitors to the university, ending with the signatures of the' 
piesent Prince of Wales and Princess Alexandra. 
10 



146 CURIOSITIES AND RARITIES. 

There wad also a wealth of manuscript documents, a host 
of curious old relics of antiquity I have forgotten, and others 
that time only allowed a glance at, such as the autographic 
letters of Pope, Milton, Addison, and Archbishop Laud, 
Queen Henrietta's love letters to Charles I. before marriage, 
and Monmouth's declaration, written in the Tower the morn- 
ing of his execution, July 15, 1685. 

Among the bequests left to this splendid library was one 
of thirty-six thousand pounds, for the purchasing of the most 
costly illustrated books that could be had; and the collection 
of these magnificent tomes in their rich binding was of itself 
a wonder : there were hosts of octavo, royal octavo, elephant 
folio, imperials, &c; there were Audubon's Birds, and Boy dell's 
Shakespeare, and hundreds of huge books of that size, many 
being rare proof copies. Then we came to a large apartment 
which represented the light literature of the collection. For 
a space of two hundred years the library had not any collec- 
tion of what might properly be termed light reading. This 
gap was filled by a bequest of one of the best, if not the very 
best, collections of that species of literature in the kingdom, 
which commences with first editions of Cock Robin and 
Dame Trott and her Cat, and ends with rare and costly 
editions of Shakespeare's works. 

Weeks and months might be sjDent in this magnificent 
library (which numbers about two hundred and fifty thou- 
gand volumes, besides its store of curious historical man- 
uscripts) without one's having time to inspect one half its 
wealth; and this is not the only grand library in Oxford, 
either. There are the Library of Merton College, the most 
genuine ancient library in the kingdom ; the celebrated Rad- 
clifl'e Library, founded in 1737 by Dr. Radcliffe, physician to 
William III., and Mary, and Queen Anne, at an expense of 
forty thousand pounds, and which is (sometimes known as the 
Physic Library; — in this is a reading-room, where all new 
publications are received and classified for the use of stu 
dents; the Library of Wadham College, the Library of 
Queen's College, that of All Souls College, and that of Exe 



STOEY OF AN OLD PORTRAIT. 147 

tei College, in a new and elegant Gothic building, erected in 
1856, all affording a mine of wealth, in every department of 
art, science, and belles-lettres. 

A mine of literature, indeed ; and the liberality of some 
of the bequests to that grand university indicates the enor- 
mous wealth of the donors, while a visit even to portions of 
these superb collections will dwarf one's ideas of what they 
have preA iously considered as treasures of literature or grand 
collections in America. 

In one of the rooms I felt almost as if looking at an old 
acquaintance, as I was shown the very lantern which Guy 
Fawkes had in his hand when seized, which was carefully 
preserved under a glass case, and was like the one in the 
picture-books, where that worthy is represented as being 
seized by the man in the high-peaked hat, who is descending 
the cellar stairs. Another relic is the pair of gold-embroi- 
dered gauntlet gloves worn by Queen Elizabeth when she 
visited the university, which are also carefully kept in like 
manner. 

In the picture gallery attached to the library are some frne 
paintings, and among those that attracted my attention were 
two portraits of Mary Queen of Scots, looking quite unlike. 
Their history is to the effect that the college had purchased 
what was supposed to be a fine old original portrait of the 
ill-fated queen, and as such it hung in its gallery for a number 
of years, till at length a celebrated painter, after repeated and 
close examinations, declared to the astonished dons that 
doubtbss the picture was an original, and perhaps one of 
Mary, but that it had been re-costumed, and the head-di-ess 
altered, and various additions made, that detracted from its 
merit as a portrait. The painter further promised to make 
a correct copy of the portrait as it was, then to skilfully 
erase from the original, without injury, the disfiguring addi- 
tions that had been made, leaving it as when first painted. 
This was a bold proposition, and a bold undertaking; but the 
artist was one of. eminence, and the college government, 
after due deliberation, decided to let him make the trial. He 



148 QUEEN BESS ON MATRIMONY. 

did so, and was perfectly successful, as the two pictures 
prove. The original, divested of the foreign frippery thai 
had been added in the way of costume and head drapery, 
now presents a sweet, sad, pensive face, far more beautiful, 
and in features resembling those of the painting of the 
decapitated head of the queen at Abbotsford. 

Here also hung a representation of Sir Philip Sidney, burned 
in wood with a hot poker, done by an artist many years ago 
— a style of warm drawing that has since been successfully 
done by the late Ball Hughes, the celebrated sculptor in Bos- 
ton, United States. Passing on beneath the gaunt, ascetic 
countenance of Duns Scotus, which looks down from a frame, 
beneath which an inscription tells us that he translated the 
whole Bible without food or drink, and died in 1309, we come 
to many curious relics in the museum. Among others was 
a complete set of carved wooden fruit trenchers, or plates, 
that once belonged to Queen Elizabeth. Each one was dif- 
ferently ornamented, and each bore upon it, in quaint Old 
English characters, a verse of poetry, and most of these 
verses had in them, some way or other, a slur at the marriage 
state. The little plates were said to be quite favorite articles 
with her single-blessed majesty. So, with some labor and 
study, I transcribed a few of the verses for American eyes, 
and here they are : — 

"If thou be young, then marry not yet; 
If thou be old, thou hast more wit ; 
For young men's wives will not be taught, 
And old men's wives are good for nought." 

How many " old men " will believe the last line of this 
pandering he to the ruddy-headed queen? But here are 
others : — 

" If that a bachelor thou be, 
Keep thee so still ; be ruled by me : 
Least that repentance, come too late, 
Eeward thee with a broken pate." 



ADDISON'S WALK AND THE MEADOWS. 149 

" A wife that marryeth husbands three 
Was never wedded thereto by me ; 
I would my wife would rather die, 
Than for my death to weep or cry." 



" Thou art the happiest man aliye, 
For every thing doth make thee thrive ( 
Yet may thy thrift thy master be ; 
Therefore take thrift and all for me." 



" Thou goest after dead men's shoes, 
But barefoot thou art like to go. 
Content thyself, and do not muse, 
i'or fortune saith it must be so." 

Emerging all unwillingly from the charms of the library, 
museum, and the interesting interiors of these beautiful old 
buildings, we stroll out to that delightful place of oaks, and 
elms, and pleasant streams, Christ Church Meadows, walk be- 
neath the broad, overarching canopy of elms, joining together 
like the roof of a cathedral, that shades the famous " Broad 
Walk ; " we saunter into " Addison's Walk," a little quiet 
avenue among the trees, running down towards the River 
Isis, and leaving Magdalen College, — which was Addison's 
college, — and its pretty, rural park, we come to the beautiful 
arched bridge which spans the River Isis, and, crossing it, 
have a superbly picturesque view of Oxford, with the grace- 
ful, antique, and curious spires rising above the city, the 
swelling dome of the Radcliffe Library, and the great tower 
of Christ Church. 

Here, at this part of the " Meadows," is the place where 
cricket and other athletic games are played. Throngs anC 
groups of promenaders are in every direction, of a pleasant 
afternoon, and groups are seated upon the benches, around 
the trunks of the elms, from which they gaze upon the merry 
throng, or at the boats on the Isis. This river, which is a 
racing and practice course of the Oxonians, appears so 
absurdly narrow and small to an American who has seen 
Harvard students battling the waves of the boisterous 



150 BOATING ON THE ISIS. 

Charles, as nearly to excite ridicule and laughter. We 
should almost denominate it a large brook in America. For 
most of its length it was not more than sixteen or eighteen 
feet in width. The Isis is a branch of the River Cherwell, 
which is a branch of the Thames, and has this advantage — 
the rowers can never suffer much from rough weather. 

Down near its mouth, where it widens towards the Cher- 
well, are the barges of the different boat clubs or universities. 
They are enormous affairs, elegantly ornamented and fitted 
up, and remind one of the great state barges seen in the pic- 
tures of Venice, where the Doge is marrying the Adriatic. 
Their interiors are elegantly upholstered, and contain cabins 
jr saloons for the reception of friends, for lounging, or for 
lunch parties. Farther up the river, and we see the various 
college boats practising their crews for forthcoming trials of 
skill. These boats are of every variety of size, shape, and 
fashion — two-oared, six-oared, eight-oared, single wherries 
shooting here and there; long craft, like a line upon the 
water, with a crew of eight athletes, their heads bound in 
handkerchiefs, stripped to the waist, and with round, hard- 
ened, muscular arms, bending to their oars with a long, 
almost noiseless sweep, and the exact regularity of a chro- 
nometer balance. 

The banks were alive with the friends of the different 
crews, students and trainers, who ran along, keeping up with 
them, prompting and instructing them how to pull, and per- 
fecting them in their practice. Every now and then, one of 
these college boats, with its uniformed crew, would shoot 
past, and its group of attendant runners upon the dike, with 
their watchful eyes marking every unskilful movement. 

"Easy there, five." "Pull steady, three." "Straighten 
your back more, two." 

" Shoulders back there, four ; do you call that pulling ? 
mind your practice. Steady, now — one, two, three ; count, 
and keep time." 

"Well done, four; a good pull and a strong pull." 

" I'm watching you, six ; no gammon. Pull, boys, pull," &c. 



MARTYRS MEMORIAL. 151 

The multitude of boats, with their crews, the gayly deco- 
rated barges, the' merry crowds upon the pleasure-grounds, 
the arched bridge, and the picturesque background of grace- 
ful domes and spires, combined to form a scene which will 
not soon fade from memory. How many advantages does 
the Oxford student enjoy, besides the admirable opportunities 
for study, and for storing the mind, from the treasure-houses 
that are ready at his hand, with riches that cannot be stolen ; 
the delicious and romantic walks, rural parks, and grounds 
about here; the opportunities for boating, which may be 
extended to the River Cherwell, where the greater width 
affords better opportunities for racing — attrition with the 
best mettle ot the nation ; instruction from the best scholars ; 
and a dwelling-place every corner of which is rich in historic 
memories ! 

We walk to the place in front of Baliol College, where 
Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer wei'e burned at the stake. 
The spot is marked by a small stone cross in the pavement ; 
and a short distance from here, in an open square, stands an 
elaborately decorated Gothic monument, surmounted by a 
cross, and bearing beneath its arches the statues of the bish- 
ops, erected about twenty years ago, and is denominated the 
Martyrs' Memorial. But adieu to Oxford ; students, libraries, 
colleges, and historical relics left behind, we are whirling 
over the railroad on our way up to London. Always say up 
to London, in England. Going to London is always going 
up, no matter what point of the compass you start from. No 
true Englishman ever talks of going to the great cit y in any 
way except going " up " to it. 



(62 LOJSTDON. 



CHAPTER VI. 

The train glides into the great glass-roofed gtation; we 
are in London. A uniformed porter claps his hand on the 
door of every first-class carriage, and runs by its side till the 
train stops. 

The railway porters in attendance at each railroad station 
wear the uniform of the company, and are therefore readily 
recognized. They assist to load and unload the luggage, and 
in the absence of the check and other systems which prevail 
in America, quite a large force is required in the great sta- 
tions in London to attend to the luggage. The tourist is in- 
formed in the stations of some companies, by conspicuous 
sign-boards that " the servants of this company are strictly 
forbidden to receive any fees from travellers, and any one of 
them detected in doing so will be instantly discharged." 
This, however, does not prevent travellers from slyly thrust- 
ing gratuities upon them ; and the English system of bribery 
is so thoroughly ingrained into every department of service, 
that it is a pretty difficult question to manage. The porters 
and railway officials are always courteous and efficient; they 
know their place, their business, and accept their position ; 
there is none of the fallen-monarch style of service such as 
we receive in America, nor the official making you wait upon 
him, instead of his waiting upon you. 

Men in England who accept the position of servants expect 
to do the duty of servants ; in America the "baggage master" 
is often a lordly, independent individual, who condescends to 
hold that position till appointed superintendent. I would by 
no means condemn the American ambition to gain by meritori- 
ous effort the positions that are open to all ranks, and that 
may be gained by the exercise of talent and ability, even if 
the possessor have not wealth ; but it is always pleasant to 



FEEING SERVANTS. 153 

have any species of service, that one contracts for, well djne, 
and in England the crowded state of all branches of employ- 
ment and trade makes it worth workmen's while to bring 
forward efficiency and thorough knowledge of their trade as 
a leading recommendation. But the sixpence and the shil- 
ling in England are keys that will remove obstacles that 
the traveller never dreams of. Let the raw American, how- 
ever, gradually and cautiously learn their use, under the 
tutelage of an expert if possible ; otherwise he will be giving 
shillings where only sixpences are expected, and sixpences 
where threepences are abundant compensation. 

What American would think of offering twenty-five cents 
to the sergeant at arms of the Boston State House for 
showing him the legislative hall, or twelve or fifteen cents 
to a railroad conductor for obtaining a seat for him ? Both 
individuals would consider themselves insulted; but in Eng- 
land the offering is. gratefully received. Indeed, at certain 
castles and noted show-places in Great Britain, the imposing 
appearance of an official in uniform, or the gentlemanly full 
dress of a butler or uppei servant, until I became acquainted 
with the customs of the country, sometimes made me doubt 
whether it would not be resented if I should offer him half a 
sovereign, till I saw some Englishmen give him a shilling or 
half crown, which was very gratefully received. But to our 
arrival. First class passengers generally want cabs, if they 
are not Londoners with their own carnages in waiting, and 
the railway porters know it. First and second class pas- 
sengers are more likely to disburse shillings and sixpences 
than third, and so the porter makes haste to whisk open the 
door of your compartment in the first class, and, as he touches 
his hat, says, "Luggage, sir?" 

"Yes ; a black trunk on top, and this portmanteau." Valise 
is a word they don't understand the meaning of in England. 

The cabman whom the porter has signalled in obedience 
to your demand, has driven up as near the train as he is per- 
mitted to come. lie is engaged. The wink, or nod, or up- 
raised finger from the porter, whom he knows, has told him 



154 HAILWAY P0BTEES. 

that. You ju mp out, in the throng of hundreds of passengers 
into the brilliantly lighted station, stiff with long riding, con- 
fused with the rush, bustle, noise, and lights ; but the porter, 
into whose hand, as it rested on the car-door, you slyly 
slipped a sixpence or shilling, attends to your case instanter. 
He does not lose sight of you or your luggage, nor suffer you 
to be hustled a moment; he shoulders your luggage, escorts 
you to the cab, mayhap assisted by another; pushes people 
out of the way, hoists the luggage with a jerk to the roof of 
the cab, sings out, " Langham's Bill," to the driver, and you 
are off. 

The cab-driver, who has an understanding with the porter, 
when he returns to the station "divys" with him on the 
shilling. All this may be wrong, but is one of the customs 
of the country. To be sure, the London railway porters will 
be polite, call a cab for you, and pack you into it, without 
any fee whatever ; but you will, if you have not learned how 
to "tip," wonder how it was that so many persons seem to 
•get off in cabs so much quicker than you, and why, in the 
miscellaneous mass of baggage that the porters are unload- 
ing from the top of the carriage, Jack tells Bob to " pass 
down the white portmanter" first, when your black one is 
much handier to get at. 

But away we rattle through the streets of London, on, on. 
How odd it seemed to see such names as Strand, Cheapside, 
Holborn, Hatton Garden, flash out occasionally upon a corner 
near a gas-light ! What a never-ending stream of vehicles ! 
What singularly London names there were over the shop 
doors! What English-looking announcements on the dead 
walls and places where bills w^ere posted ! London — well, at 
night, seen from a cab window, it was not unlike many parts 
of New York, only it seemed like two or three New Yorka 
rolled into one. On we went miles through crowded streets, 
Regent Street, Oxford Street, and at last, at the West End, 
pulled up at the Langham Hotel, a house that nearly all 
freshly-arrived Americans, especially during the season of 
the French Exposition, when so many went over, generally 



LONDON HOTELS. 155 

weni to first on arrival in London, and generally very soon 
changed their quarters. It was then but recently built. It 
is a magnificent edifice in the fashionable part of London, 
and was understood to be conducted on the American plan, 
but proved to be like a northern man with southern prin- 
ciples, with few of the good and all of the bad characteristics 
of both. 

America is the paradise of hotels — that is, the large cities 
of America ; but in London, the newly-arrived American will 
first be vexed at the utter incapability of the people to keep 
a hotel, and next amused at the persistent clinging to old cus- 
toms, and the absurd attempts made, by those who carry them 
on, to do so. The American hotel clerk, who can answer 
fifty questions in a breath, Who can tell you w T hat the bill of 
performance is at all the theatres, at what horn- the trains 
over the different roads start, what is the best brand of wine, 
what to do, where to go, how much everything costs, recol 
lects your name, is a gentleman in dress and address, and 
whom you mutually respect as a man of quick preception, 
prompt decision, and tenacious memory, is an official unknown 
in London. You are met in that city by the head porter, 
who answers questions about trains (by aid of Bradshaw's 
Guide), will receive parcels for you, call a cab, or see that your 
luggage is sent up or down ; but as for city sights, where to 
go, what to see, when the opera or theatre begins, how to get 
to Richmond Hill, or Kew Gardens, or Windsor Castle, he is 
profoundly ignorant. 

In a small enclosure called a bar is a woman who books 
your name, keeps an account of everything you have, mak- 
ing a charge of each item separately, down to a cigar, neces- 
sitating an enormous amount of book-keeping. In this bar 
are others who draw ale, or extract spirits from casks ranged 
in the enclosure, as they may be ordered by guests in their 
own room or the " coffee-room," into carefully-marked meas- 
ures, so as to be sure that no one gets beyond his sixpence 
worth of whiskey, or gin, or brandy; bat there is one thing 
certain, the guests, as a general thing, get a far better qualify 



l06 CLUMSY MANAGEMENT. 

of liquor than we in America, where it is next to an impos- 
sibility to get even a good article of that great American, 
national drink, whiskey, pure and unadulterated. 

These bar-maids can give you no information except about 
the price of rooms, meals, and refreshments. Next comes 
the head waiter, who, with the porter, appears to " run " the 
hotel. This worthy must be feed to insure attention. If you 
are a single man, you can dine well enough in the coffee- 
room, if you order your dinner at a certain time in advance. 
However, the great London hotels are slowly becoming 
Americanized in some departments : one improvement is 
that of having what is called a " ladies' coffee-room," i. e., a 
public dining-room, and a table d'hote, and not compelling a 
gentleman and wife to dine in solemn state in a private 
room, under the inspection of a waiter. Between stated 
hours, anything in the magnificent bills of fare, for the three 
meals, is ready on demand at an American hotel ; for instance, 
the guest may sit down to breakfast at any time between six 
and eleven ; to dinner at one, three, and five ; to tea at six to 
eight, and supper ten to twelve ; and anything he orders will 
be served instanter: the meals at those times are always 
ready. In London, nothing is ever ready, and everything 
must be ordered in advance. 

It is a matter of positive wonderment to me that the 
swarms of Englishmen, whom one meets in the well-kept 
hotels of Beme, Lucerne, Wiesbaden, Baden Baden, &c, can, 
after enjoying their comforts and conveniences, endure the 
clumsy manner of hotel-keeping, and the discomforts of the 
London hotels, or that the landlords of the latter can persist 
in hanging back so obstinately from adopting the latest im- 
provements. 

The new and large hotels, however, are a great improve- 
ment on the old style, and the best thing for a fresh American 
tourist to do, before going to London, is to get some fellow- 
countryman, who has had experience in the hotels and lodg- 
ings of that metropolis, to " post him up " as to which will 
the best suit his taste and desires. 



SIGHTS IN LONDON STREETS. 157 

My first night in London, spent at the Langham, which is 
at the West End, or fashionable quarter, was anything but a 
quiet one; the hotel being, as it were, right in the track 
between various resorts of the aristocracy and their resi- 
dences, and the time the height of the season. There was one 
unceasing roar of private carriages and cabs from ten P. M. 
till three A. M., which banished sleep from my eyelids, and 
made me long for the quiet of the well-kept little English and 
Scotch country inns that I had previously been enjoying. 

Accommodations were sought and found in a less fashiona 
ble, but far more central part of the city, where more comfort, 
attention, and convenience were obtained at a less rate than 
at this English hotel on the American plan ; and it was not 
long ere I found that my own experience at Langham's was 
that of numerous other Americans, and that the pleasantest 
way to live in London is " in apartments," if one stays there 
any length of time — that is, furnished lodgings. The Eng- 
lish themselves, when visiting London, stay with a friend if 
possible, always avoiding a hotel ; and it is probably the ad- 
herence to this old custom, by the better classes, that causes 
the indifference to, the quality of what is furnished for public 
accommodation in their own capital. 

I thought my experiences in New York streets had pre- 
pared me for London ; but on emerging into the London 
streets for the first time I found my mistake. I was fairly 
stunned and bewildered by the tremendous rush of humanity 
that poured down through Oxford Street, through ITolbom, 
on to the city, or otherwise down towards White Chapel, 
Lombard Street, the Bank, and the Exchange. 

Great omnibuses, drawn by three horses abreast, thundered 
ovei the pavement ; four-wheel cabs, or " four-wheelers," a 
sort of compressed American carriages, looking as though 
resuscitated from the last stages of dissolution, rattled hen- 
and there; the Hansom cabs, those most convenient of ::I1 
carriages, dashed in and out, hither and thither, in the crowd 
of vehicles ; great brewery drays, witn horses like elej)hants, 
plodded along with their loads ; the sidewalks swarmed with 



158 OMNIBUSES. 

a moving mass of humanity, and mauy were the noveltiea 
that met my curious eye. 

The stiff, square costume of the British merchant; little 
boys often, with beaver hats like men ; Lord Dundrearys with 
eye-glasses such as I had never seen before, except upon the 
stage at the theatre; ticket porters with then brass labels 
about their necks; policemen in their uniform ; officers and 
soldiers in theirs ; all sorts of costermongers with everything 
conceivable to sell, and all sorts of curious vehicles, some 
with wood enough in them for three of a similar kind in 
America. 

The drivers of the London omnibuses feel the dignity of 
their position, — they do. It is the conductor who solicits 
passengers, takes the pay, and regulates the whole business 
of the establishment. The driver, or rather the " coachman," 
drives ; he wears a neat top-coat, a beaver hat, and a pair of 
driving gloves ; he drives with an air. You can attract his 
attention from the sidewalk, and he will "pull up," but he 
does it with a sort of calm condescension ; the conductor or cad, 
on the other hand, is ever on the alert ; his eyes are in every 
direction ; he signals a passenger in the crowd invisible to all 
but him ; he continually shouts the destination of his vehicle, 
but sometimes in a patois unintelligible except to the native 
Londoner. As for instance, I was once standing in Holbom, 
waiting for a 'bus for the Bank ; one passed, which from its 
inscription I did not recognize, the conductor ejaculating, as 
he looked on every side, " Abink-Wychiple, Binkwychi- 
ple," when suddenly he detected us in the throng, and 
marked us as strangers looking for a 'bus ; in a twinkling he 
was down from his perch, and upon the sidewalk. 

" Binkwychiple ? " (Bank — Whitechapel.) 

" I want to go to the Bank," said I. 

" All right, sir ; 'ere you are." 

He gave a shrill whistle, which caused the driver who was 
sixty feet away, to stop, hurried us both into the vehicle, 
slammed to the door, and, taking off his hat with mock polite- 
ness to a rival 'bus that had nearly overtaken his, said, " Can't 



CABS AND CAB DRIVERS. 159 

vait for you, air : drive on, Bob ; " and on we went to our 
destination. 

Another 'bus conductor puzzled me by shouting " Sim 
mery-Ex, Simmery-Ex, Simmery-Ex" until the expression 
was translated into " St. Mary's Axe," the locality alluded 
to. These conductors are generally sharp, quick-witted, and 
adepts at "chaff" and blackguardism, and it is good advice 
to the uninitiated to beware " chafing" them, as in nine cases 
out of ten the cad gets the best of it. 

The Hansom cabs are the best and most convenient vebi- 
cles that can possibly be used for short excursions about the 
city. A shilling will carry you a smart fifteen minutes' ride, 
the legal price being sixpence a mile, but nobody ever ex- 
pects to give a cabman any less than a shilling for ever so 
short a ride. Eighteen pence is readily accepted for a three 
mile trip, and it costs no more for two persons than one. 
There being nothing between the passenger and the horse 
but the dasher, as the driver is perched up behind, an unob- 
structed view is had as you whirl rapidly through the crowded 
streets ; and the cheapness of the conveyance, added to its 
adaptability for the purpose that it is used, makes an Ameri- 
can' acknowledge that in this matter the English are far in 
advance of us, and also to wonder why these convenient 
vehicles have not displaced the great, cumbersome, two-horse 
carriages which even a single individual is compelled to take 
in an American city if he is in a hurry to go to the railway 
station or to execute a commission, and which cost nearly 
as much for a trip of a mile as would engage a Hansom in 
London for half a day. 

There has been much said in the London papers about the 
impositions of the cab-drivers; but I must do them the justice 
to say I saw little or none of it: making myself acquainted 
with the legal rate, I found it generally accepted without 
hesitation. If I was in doubt about the distance, instead of 
adopting the English plan of keeping the extra sixpence, 1 
gave it, and so cheaply saved disputes. 

Coming out from the theatr s, you find privileged porters, 



160 THE SALESROOM OF THE WORLD. 

who have the right of calling cabs for those who want them v 
besides numerous unprivileged ones ; boys, who will dart 
out to where the cabs are, — they are not allowed to stand in 
front of the theatre, — and fetch you one in an instant. The 
driver never leaves his seat, but your messenger opens the 
cab, and shuts you in, shouts your direction to the driver, and 
touches his cap, grateful for the penny or two pence that you 
reward him with. 

.What a never-ending source of amusement the London 
streets are to the newly-arrived American — their very names 
historical. Here we are in Regent Street, where you can 
buy everything ; the four quarters of the world seem to have 
been laid under contribution to supply it : here are magnifi- 
cent jewelry stores, all ablaze with rich and artistically-set 
gems and jewels ; here a huge magazine of nothing but India 
shawls and scarfs — an excellent place to buy a camel's hair 
shawl. Ladies, save your money till you go to London, for 
that pride of woman's heart comes into England duty free, and 
from fifty to four hundred dollars may be saved, according to 
the grade purchased, on the price charged in America. In 
this India store one could buy from scarfs at five shillings to 
shawls at four hundred guineas. 

Then there were the splendid dry goods stores, the win- 
dows most magnificently dressed; shoe stores, with those 
peculiarly English "built," — that is the only word that will 
express it, so fashioned by rule into structures of leather "were 
they, — English built shoes of all sizes in the window, and 
shoes that will outwear three pairs of Yankee-made affairs, 
unless one goes to some of the very choice establishments, or 
to foreigners at home, who, knowing how rare faithful work 
and good material are in their business, charge a tremendous 
premium for both articles. I think for service, ease to the 
foot, and real economy, there is no boot or shoe like those by 
the skilled London makers ; the price charged is only about 
twenty-five per cent, less than in America ; but an article of 
solid, substantial, honest British workmanship is furnished, 
and any one who has ever bought any portion of his ward- 



LONDON SHOPS. 161 

robe of an English maker, knows the satisfaction experienced 
in wearing articles made upon honor ; the quality, stitches, 
and workmanship can be depended upon. 

But what is in other shops ? 

O, everything ; elegant displays of gentlemen's furnishing 
goods, of shirts, under-clothing, socks and gloves, of a variety, 
fineness, and beauty I had never seen before; gloves, fans, 
fancy goods, China ware ; toy shops, shops of English games, 
cricket furniture, bats, balls, &c. ; elegant wine and preserve 
magazines — where were conserves, preserves, condiments, 
pickles, cheeses, dried fruits, dried meats, and appetizing deli- 
cacies from every part of the globe, enough to drive an epicure 
zrazy. At these great establishments are put up the " ham- 
pers " that go to supply parties who go to the races or picnics. 
You order a five-shilling or five-pound hamper, and are sup- 
plied accordingly — meat-pies, cold tongues, fowls, game, 
wines, ales, pickles. There are English pickles, Dutch saur 
kiout, French pdte de fois gras, Finnian haddock, German 
sausages, Italian macaroni, American buffalo tongues, and 
Swiss cheeses, in stacks. That is what astonishes the Amer- 
ican — the enormous stock in these retail establishments, and 
the immense variety of styles of each article ; but it should 
be remembered that this is the market of the world, and the 
competition here is sharp. Go into a store for a pair of 
gloves, even, mention the size you desire, and the salesman 
will show you every variety in kid, French dogskin, clotb, and 
leather ; for soiree, promenade, driving, travelling, and every 
species of use, and different styles and kinds for each use. 
The salesmen understand their business, which is to sell 
goods / they are polite, they suggest wants, they humor your 
merest whim in hue, pattern, style, or fancy ; they make no 
rude endeavor to force goods upon you, but are determined 
you shall have just what you want; wait upon you with 
assi luous politeness, and seem to have been taught their 
occupation. 

One misses that sort of independent nonchalance with 
which an American retail salesman throws out one article 
11 



1&2 LONDON ' SHOPKEEPERS. 

at a time, talking politics or of the weather to you, while you 
yourself turn over the goods, place them, and adjust them for 
the effect of light or shade, as he indolently looks on, or per- 
sistently battles in argument with you, that what he has 
shown you is what you ought to have, instead of what you 
demand and want ; also that American style of indifference, 
or independence, as to whether you purchase or not, and the 
making of you — as you ascertain after shopping in London — 
do half the salesman's work. The London shopman under- 
stands that deference is the best card in the pack, and plays 
it skilfully. He attends to you assiduously ; he is untiring to 
suit your taste. If he sells you a ribbon, the chances are that 
you find, before leaving, you have purchased gloves, fan, and 
kerchief besides, and it is not until you finally take your de- 
parture that he ventures to remark that " it is a very fine 
day." 

Many of the London first-class establishments, such as tai- 
lors, furnishing-goods "dealers, umbrella stores, shoemakers, 
cheesemongers, or fancy-grocery stores, have two stores, one 
in Regent Street, the fashionable quarter, and one in the city, 
say down towards the Bank, in Threadneedle Street, Poultry, 
Cheapside, &c. The " city " or down-town store of the same 
firm, it is well known to Londoners, will sell the same goods 
and same articles at least five per cent cheaper than the up- 
town Regent or Oxford Street one will. 

Besides serviceable boots and shoes, gentlemen's wearing 
apparel, and under-clothing, buy your umbrellas in England. 
They make this article splendidly, doubtless from its being an 
article of such prime necessity. The English umbrella is 
made light, shapely, and strong, of the best materials, — if 
you get them of a dealer of reputation, Sangster's, for instance, 
— they will keep their shape until completely worn out. 

While in London, purchase whatever trunks, portmanteaus, 
or valises you may need for your continental tour. London 
is the paradise of this species of merchandise, and in Paris 
you will learn too late that trunk-making is not a Frenchman's 
art, though, if you reach Vienna, the headquarters of the ele- 



HINTS TO BUYERS. 163 

gant Russia leather work, you will find articles there in the 
travelling-bag line, at very moderate prices, that will enable 
you to make the most distinguished carpet-bagger in your 
own country die of envy. 

It is said that London is headquarters for gentlemen's 
clothing, and Paris for ladies'. London sets the fashion for 
gentlemen in dress, and Paris that for the ger_ ler sex, al- 
l iiough in the article of men's hats, gloves, and dress boots, I be- 
lieve the Frenchman has "the inside of the track." A French 
boot is made for grace and beauty, an English one for service 
and comfort. An English hat, like an English dog-cart, has 
too much " timber " in it, and a French glove is unajDproach- 
able. Many Americans leave their measure, and now order 
their clothes of Poole & Co., Sackville Street, or Creed & Co., 
Conduit Street, Bond Street, both crack West End tailors. 
Others order of some of the city tailors down town, who, 
doubtless, suit them equally well, and use just as good mate- 
rials, having the custom of some of the old particular London 
merchants, who like to step into a solid, old-fashioned, down- 
in-the-city store, where their predecessors traded, — like Sam 
Hodgkinson's, in Threadneedle Street, opposite Merchant Tai- 
lors' Hall, — and buy at an old established stand, a place 
that has the aroma of age about it. The older a business 
stand, the more value it seems to possess in customers' eyes ; 
and there is something in it. For a store that has built up a 
reputation, and been known as a good boot, tailor's, or hat 
strre, with that stamp of indorsement, "established in 1798," 
or eighteen hundred and something, more than forty years 
ago, is about as good an indorsement as " bootmaker to the 
Duke of Cambridge," or Lord Stuckup, and a reputation 
which the cccupant of said establishment does not trifle with, 
but labors to preserve and increase, as a part of his capital 
and stock in trade. 

Your English tailor of reputation is rather more careful 
than the American one. He makes an ajjpointment, and tries 
the garment on you after it is cut out, comes to your hotel, if 
you are a stranger and cannot come to him, to do so, and Lis 



164 SHOPPING IN LONDON. 

two workmen who wait upon you, measure, snip, mould, an/1 
adajjt their work, appear to take as much pride in their occu- 
pation as a sculptor or artist. Indeed, they consider them- 
selves " artists " in their line ; for Creed & Co's card which 
lies belore me as I write, announces "■ II. Creed & Co." to be 
" Artistes in Draping the Real Figure," and gives the cash-on- 
delivery purchaser ten per cent, advantage over the credit 
customer. 

Furs are another article that can be bought very cheap m 
London. But I must not devote too much space to shopping; 
suffice it to say that the windows of the great magazines of 
merchandise in Oxford and Regent Streets form in themselves 
a perfect museum of the products of the world, — and I have 
spent hours in gazing in at them, — for the art of window 
dressing is one which is well understood by their proprietors. 

A volume might be written — in fact, volumes have been 
written — about London streets, and the sights seen in them. 
It seemed so odd to be standing opposite old Temple Bar, on 
the Strand, to see really those names we had so often read of, 
to wonder how long the spirit of American improvement 
would suffer such a barrier as that Bar to interrupt the tre- 
mendous rush of travel that jams, aud crowds, and surges 
through and around it. Here is Prout's tooth-brush store 
close at hand. Everybody knows that Prout's brushes are 
celebrated. We step in to price some. " One shilling each, 
sir." You select twelve, give him a sovereign. He takes 
out ten shillings. "The price, sir, at wholesale." The repu- 
tation of that place would suffer, in the proprietor's opinion, 
if he had allowed a stranger to have gone, even if satisfied, 
away, and that stranger had afterwards ascertained that the 
price per dozen was less, and that any one could purchase less 
than he. So much for the honor of " old-established" places. 

We go up through Chancery Lane, — how often we have 
read of it, and what lots of barristers' chambers and legal 
stationers there are, — out into " High Holborn," Holborn 
Hill, or " Eye Obun," as the Londoners call it. What a rush 
of 'buses, and drays, and cabs, and Hansoms, and everything 



BRITISH BUSINESS STYLE. 165 

Bat let us go. Where is it one goes first on arrival in Lon- 
don ? If he is an American, the first place he goes to is his 
banker, to get that most necessary to keep him going. S<i 
hither let us wend our way. 

If there is any one thing needed in England besides hotela 
on the American j)lan, it is an American bariking-house of 
capital and reputation in the city of London ; a house that un 
derstands the wants and feelings of Americans, and that will 
cater to them; a house that will not hold them off at arm's 
length, as it were ; one that is not of such huge wealth as to 
treat American customers with surly British routine and red 
tape ; a house that wants American business, and that will do 
it at the lowest rate of percentage. In fact, some of the 
partners, at least, should be Americans in heart and feeling, 
and not Anglicized Americans.' 

The great banking-house of Baring Brothers & Co., whose 
correspondents and connections are in every part of the 
world, — whose superscriptions I used to direct in a big, 
round hand, upon thin envelopes, when I was a boy in a mer- 
chant's counting-room, and whose name is as familiar in business 
mouths as household words, — it would be supposed would 
be found occupying a structure for their banking-house like 
some of the palatial edifices on Broadway, or the solid granite 
buildings of State Street, where you may imagine that you 
could find out about everything you wished to know about 
London; what the sights were to see; which was the best 
hotel for Americans ; what you ought to pay for things ; how 
to get to Windsor Castle, or the Tower, &c. Of course they 
would have American papers, know the news from America ; 
and you, a young tourist, not knowing Lombard Street from 
Pall Mall, would, on presentation of your letter of credit, be 
greeted by some member of the firm, and asked how you did, 
what sort of a passage you had over, could they do anything 
for you, all in American style of doing things; but, bless 
your raw, inexperienced, unsophisticated soul, you have yet 
to learn the solid, British, square-cut, high shirt-collar style 
of doing "business." 



166 A LONDON BANKING HOUSE. 

I have roared with laughter at the discomfiture of many a 
young American tourist who expected something of the cor- 
dial style and the great facilities such as the young American 
houses of Bowles & Co. or Drexel & Co. afford, of these 
great London bankers. The latter are civil enough, but, aa 
previously mentioned, they do " business" and on the rigid 
English plan ; they will cash your check less commission, an- 
swer a question, or send a ticket-porter to show you the way 
out into Lombard Street, or, perhaps, if you send your card in 
to the managing partner's room, he will admit you, and will 
pause, pen in hand, from his writing, to bid you good morn- 
ing, and wait to know what you have to say ; that is, if 
you have no other introduction to him or his house than a 
thousand or two pounds to your credit in their hands, which 
you intend drawing out on your letter of credit. 

Don't imagine such a bagatelle as that thousand or two, 
my raw tourist, is going to thaw British ice ; it is but a drop 
in their ocean of capital, and they allow you four per cent, 
interest; and though they may contrive to make six or seven 
on it, all they have to do with you is to honor your drafts 
less commission to the amount of your letters. 

Messrs. Baring Brothers & Co.'s banking house we finally 
ascertain is at No. — , Bishop Gate (within). Arrived at No. 
— , Bishop Gate, you find that xcithin is in through a pas- 
sage to the rear of the building ; and so we go in. There is 
no evidence of a "palatial" character in the ordinary con- 
tracted and commonplace looking counting-room, an area 
enclosed by desks facing outward, and utterly devoid of all 
those elegant conveniences one sees in the splendid counting- 
rooms on Wall and State Streets, -— foolish frippery, may 
be, — but the desks look crowded and inconvenient, the area 
for customers mean and contracted, for a house of such wealth, 
and we wondered at first if we had not made some mistake. 
Elere we were, In a plain and very ordinary counting-room, 
like that of a New England country bank, surrounded on 
three sides by desks facing towards us, behind high and trans- 
parent screens", and six or eight clerks at them, writing in 



AMUSING EXPERIENCE. 167 

huge ledgers. After standing some minutes in uncertainty 
we made for Ihe nearest clerk at one of the apertures in the 
.semicircle of desks. 

" Is this the Messrs. Barings' counting-house ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

" I wish to draw some money." 

"Bill, sir, or letter of credit?" 

" Letter of credit." 

"Opposite desk;" and he pointed with his quill pen to the 
other side. 

I accordingly crossed over, and commenced a fresh dialogue 
with another clerk. 

"I desire to draw some money on this letter of credit" 
(handing it). 

"Yes, sir" (taking it; looks at the letter, reads it carefully, 
then looks at me searchingly). "Are you the Mr. , men- 
tioned here ? " 

"I am, sir" (decidedly). 

" How much money do you want ? " 

" Twenty-five pounds." 

Clerk goes to a big ledger, turns it over till he finds a cer- 
tain page, looks at the page, compares it with the letter, 
turns to another clerk, who is writing with his back to him, 
hands him letter, says something in a low tone to him. 
Second clerk takes letter, and goes into an inner apartment, 
and the first commences waiting on a new comer, and I com- 
mence waiting developments. 

In about five minutes clerk number two returned with 
something for me to sign, which I did, and he left again. 
After waiting, perhaps, five minutes more, I ventured to in- 
quire if my letter of credit was ready. Clerk number one 
said it would be here "d'rectly;" and so it was, for clerk 
number two returned with it in its envelope, and in his hand 
a check, which he handed me, saying, " Eighty Lombard 
Street." 

"Sir?" 

"80 Lombard Street" (pointing to check). 



168 ROUTINE VS. COURTESY. 

"O, I am to get the money at 80 Lombard Street — 
am I?" 

" Yes ; better hurry. It's near bank closing." 

"But where is Lombard Street?" 

(Aghast at my ignorance.) "Cross d'rcctly you go oivt, 

turn first to left, then take Street on right, and it's first 

street on lef." 

It might have been an accommodation to have paid me 
the money there, instead of sending me over to Lombard 
Street; but that would probably have been out of routine, and 
consequently un-English. 

I started for the door, but when nearly out, remembered 
that I had not inquired for letters and papers from home, that 
I had given instructions should be sent there to await my 
arrival from Scotland and the north, and accordingly I 
returned, and inquired of clerk number two, — 

" Any letters for me ? " 

" Ah ! beg yer pardon." 

" Any letters for me ? " 

" You 'av your letter in your 'and, sir." 

" No ; I mean any letters from home — from America — 
to my address ? " 

" The other side sir" (pointing across the area). 

I repaired to the " other side," gave my address, and had 
the satisfaction of receiving several epistles from loved ones 
at home, which the clerk checked off his memoranda as de- 
livered, and I sallied out my first day in London, to turn to 
the left and right, and find Lombard Street. Three pence 
and a ticket porter enabled me to do this speedily, and thus 
ended our first experience at Baring Brothers & Co.'s. 

There may, perhaps, be nothing to complain of in all this 
as a business transaction, but that it was regularly performed ; 
but after one has experienced the courtesies of bankers on the 
continent, he begins to ask himself the question, if the Bar-> 
ings ought not, taking into consideration the amount of money 
they have made and are making out of their Ameucan busi- 
ness and the American people, to show a little less parsimony 



AX AGREEABLE CONTRAST. 169 

fmd more liberality and courtesy to them, and provide some 
convenience and accommodation for that class of customers, 
and make some effort to put the raw tourist, whose one or 
two thousand pounds they have condescended to receive, at 
his ease when he visits their establishment. 

All this may have been changed since I was in London 
(1867) ; but the style of transactions like this I have described 
was then a general topic of conversation among Americans, 
and seemed to have been similar in each one's experience. 
In Paris how different was the reception ! Upon presenting 
your letter, a member of the American banking-house, a junior 
partner, probably, steps forward, greets you cordially, makes 
pleasant inquiries with regard to your passage over, invites 
you to register your name and address, ushers you into a 
large room where the leading American journals are on file, 
and there are conveniences for letter writing, conversation, 
&c. He invites you to make this your headquarters ; can he 
do anything for you ? you want some money — the cashier 
of the house cashes your draft at once, and you are not sent 
out into the street to hunt up an unknown banking-house. He 
can answer you almost any question about Paris or its sights, 
and procure you cards -of permission to such places of note 
as it is necessary to send to government officials for, tell 
you where to board or lodge, and execute any commission 
for you. 

The newly-arrived American feels " at home " with such a 
greeting as this at once, and if his letter draws on Baring's 
agent in Paris, is prone to withdraw funds, and redeposit with 
his new-found friends. Of course the houses of this character, 
that tourists do business with in Paris, were peculiar to that 
city, and may be classed as banking and commission houses, 
and the " commission " part of the business has come into ex- 
istence within a few years, and was of some importance dur 
ing the year of the Exposition. That part of the business 
would not be desirable to a great London banking-house, nor 
is there the field for it, as in Paris ; but there is room for 
an iniprow-ieut in conveniences, accommodation, cordiality 



170 THE STREETS. 

courtesy, &c, towaids American customers, especially tourists, 
who naturally, on first arrival, turn to their banker for infor- 
mation respecting usages, customs, &c, and for other intelli- 
gence which might be afforded with comparatively little 
trouble. 

But to the sights of London. The streets themselves, as I 
have said, are among the sights to be seen in this great 
metropolis of the civilized world. There is Pall Mall, or 
" Pell Mell," as the Londoners call it, with its splendid club- 
houses, the "Travellers," "Reform," "Army and Navy," 
"Athenaeum," "Guards," "Oxford," and numerous others I 
cannot now recall ; Regent Street, to which I have referred, 
with its splendid stores ; Oxford Street, a street of miles in 
length, and containing stores of equal splendor with its more 
aristocratic rival ; Holborn, which is a continuation of Oxford, 
and carries you down to " the city ; " Fleet Street and the 
Strand, with their newspaper offices, and bustle, and turmoil, 
houses, churches, great buildings, and small shops. Not far 
from here are Charing Cross Hotel and the railroad station, a 
splendid modern building ; or you may go over into White- 
hall, pass by the Horse Guards' Barracks, — in front of which 
two mounted troopers sit as sentinels, — and push on, till rising 
to view stands that one building so fraught with historic in- 
terest as to be worth a journey acrosa the ocean to see — the 
last resting-place of kings, queens, princes, poets, warriors, 
artists, sculptors, and divines, the great Pantheon of Eng- 
land's glory — Westminster Abbey. 

Its time-browned old walls have looked down upon the regal 
coronation, the earthly glory, of the monarch, and received 
within their cold embrace his powerless ashes, and bear upon 
their enduring sides man's last vanity — his epitaph. 

" Think how many royal bones 
Sleep within these heaps of stones ! 
Here they lie — had realms and lands, 
Who now want strength to lift their hands, 
Where, from their pulpit, sealed with duat, 
They preach, ' In greatness is no trust.' 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 171 

Here's an acre, sown, indeed, 
With the richest royal seed 
That the earth did e'er suck in 
Since the first man died for sin." 

f stood before this magnificent Gothic j.ile, which was 
blown with the breath of a many centuries, with that feel 
ing of quiet satisfaction and enjoyment that one experiences 
in the fruition of the hopes of years. There were the two 
great square towers, with the huge Gothic window between, 
and the Gothic door below. How I was carried back to 
the picture-books, and the wood-cuts, and youth's histories, 
that, many a time and oft, I had hung over when a 
boy, and dreamed and fancied how it really looked; and 
here it was — a more than realization of the air-castle of 
boyhood. 

The dimensions of the abbey are, length, about four hun- 
dred feet, breadth at the transept, two hundred and three feet ; 
the length of the nave, one hundred and sixteen feet, breadth, 
thirty-eight feet ; the choir, one hundred and fifty-six feet by 
thirty-one. To the dimensions of the abbey should be added 
that of Henry VII.'s Chapel, which is built on to it, of one 
hundred and fifteen feet long by eighty wide, its nave being 
one hundred and four feet long and thirty-six wide. 

The form of the abbey is the usual long cross, and it has 
three entrances. Besides the nave, choir, and transepts, there 
are nine chapels dedicated to diiferent saints, and an area of 
cloisters. The best external view of the building is obtained 
in front of the western entrance, where the visitor has full 
view of the two great square towers, which rise to the height 
of two hundred and twenty-five feet. 

But let us enter. Out from an unusually bright day for 
London, we stepped in beneath the lofty arches, lighted by 
great windows of stained glass, glowing far above in colored 
sermons and religious stories ; and from this point — the west' 
era entrance — a superb view may be had of the interior. 
Stretching far before us is the magnificent colonnade of pillars, 
a perfect arcade of columns, terminating Rith the Chapel of 



ll'l TOMBS OF KINUS AND WARRIORS. 

Edward the Confessor, at the eastern extremity, and the 
whole interior so admirably lighted that every object is well 
brought out, and clearly visible. 

In whichever direction the footsteps may incline, one is 
brought before the last mementos of the choicest dust of 
England. Here they lie — sovereigns, poets, warriors, divines, 
authors, heroes, and philosophers; wise and pure-minded 
men, vulgar and sensual tyrants ; those who in the fullness 
of years have calmly passed away, " rich in that hope that tri- 
umphs over pain," and those whom the dagger of the assassin, 
the axe of the executioner, and the bullet of the battle-field 
cut down in their prime. Sovereign, priest, soldier, and citizen 
slumber side by side, laid low by the great leveller, Death. 

The oldest of the chapels is that of St. Edward the Con- 
fessor. It contains, besides the monument to its founder, 
those of many other monarchs. Here stands the tomb of 
Henry III., a great altar-like structure of porphyry, upon 
which lies the king's effigy in brass. He was buried with 
great pomp by the Knights Tenvplars, of which order his 
father was a distinguished member. Next comes the plain 
marble tomb of that bold crusader, Edward I., with the de- 
spoiled one of Henry V. Here also is the tomb of Eleanor, 
queen to Edward I., who, it will be remembered, sucked the 
poison from her husband's wound in Palestine ; and here the 
black marble tomb of Queen Philippa, wife to Edward III., 
who quelled the Scottish insurrection during her husband's 
absence. This tomb was once ornamented with the brass 
statues of thirty kings and princes, but is now despoiled. 
Upon the great gray marble tomb of Edward III., who died 
in 1377, rests his effigy, with the shield and sword carried be- 
fore him in France — a big, two-handled affair, seven feet long, 
and weighing eighteen pounds. 

The most elegant and extensive chapel in the abbey is that 
of Henry VII. Its lofty, arched, Gothic ceiling is most ex- 
quisitely carved. Thei-e are flowers, bosses, roses, pendants, 
panels, and armorial bearings without number, a bewildering 
mass of exquisite tracery and ornamentation in stone, above 



THE CHAPELS. 173 

and on every uide. In the nave of this chapel the Knights of 
the Order of the Bath are installed, and here are their stalls, or 
Beats, elegantly carved and shaded with Gothic canopies, while 
above are their coats of arms, heraldic devices, and banners. 
But the great object of interest in this magnificent, brass-gated 
chapel is the elaborate and elegant tomb of its founder, Henry 
VII , and his queen, Elizabeth, the last of the House of York 
who wore the English crown. The tomb is elegantly carved 
and ornamented, and bears the effigies of the royal pair rest- 
ing upon a slab of black marble. It is surrounded by a most 
elaborate screen, or fence, of curiously-wrought brass-work. 
In another part of this chapel is a beautiful tomb, erected to 
Mary, Queen of Scots, surmounted by an alabaster effigy of 
the unfortunate queen ; and farther on another, also erected 
by King James I. to Queen Elizabeth, bearing the recumbent 
effigy of that sovereign, supported by four lions. Queen Mary 
("Bloody Mary"), who burned about seventy persons a year 
at the stake during four years of her reign, rests here in the 
same vault. Not far from this monument I found the sar- 
cophagus marking the resting-place of the bones discovered 
in the Tower, supposed to be those of the little princes mur- 
dered by Richard III. 

The nine chapels of the abbey are crowded with the tombs 
and •monuments of kings and others of royal birth down to 
the time of George II., when Windsor Castle was made the 
repository of the royal remains. Besides monuments to those 
of noble birth, I noticed those of men who have, by great 
deeds and gifts of great inventions to mankind, achieved 
names that will outlive many of royal blood, in some of these 
chapels. In the Chapel of St. Paul there is a colossal figure 
of James Watt, who so developed the wonderful power of 
steam ; one of Thomas Telford, in the Chapel of St. John, 
who died in 1834, who, by his extraordinary talents and self- 
education, raised himself from the position of orphan son of 
a shepherd to one of the most eminent engineers of his age; 
also the tablet to Sir Humphrey Davy. In the same chapel 
is a full-length statue of Mrs. Siddons, the tragic actress. 



174 AN EMPIRE'S DUST. 

Besides these, there were in this chapel two "wonderfully 
executed monumental groups, that attracted my attention. 
One represented a tomb, from the half-opened marble doors 
of which a figure of Death has just issued, and is in the vei-y 
act of casting his dart at a lady who is sinking affrighted into 
the arms of her husband, who is rising startled from his seat 
upon the top of the tomb. The life-like attitude and expres- 
sion of affright of these two figures are wonderful, while the 
figure of Death, with the shroud half falling off, revealing 
the fleshless ribs, skull, and bones of the full-length skeleton, 
is something a little short of terrible in its marvellous execu- 
tion. The other group was a monument to Sir Francis Vere, 
who was a great soldier in Elizabeth's time, and died in 1608. 
It is a tablet supported upon the shoulders of four knights, 
of life size, kneeling. Upon the tablet lie the different parts 
of a complete suit of armor, and underneath, upon a sort of 
alabaster quilt, rests the effigy of Sir Francis. The kneeling 
figures of the knights are represented as dressed in armor 
suits, which are faithfully and elaborately carved by the 
sculptor. 

While walking among the numerous and pretentious mon- 
uments of kings and princes, we were informed by the guide, 
who with bunch of keys opened the various chapels to our 
explorations, that many a royal personage, whose name 
helped to fill out the pages of England's history, slumbered 
almost beneath our very feet, without a stone to mark their 
resting-place. Among these was the grave of the merry 
monarch, Charles II. ; and the fact that not one of the vast 
swarm of sycophantic friends that lived upon him, and basked 
m the sunshine of his prodigality, had thought enough of 
him to rear a tribute to his memory, was something of an 
illustration of the hollowness and heartlessness of that class 
of favorites and friends. 

Although I made two or three visits to the abbey, the time 
allowed in these chapels by the guides was altogether too 
short to study the elaborate and splendid works of sculpture, 
the curious inscriptions, and, in fact, to almost re-read a por- 



the poet's corner. 175 

tion of England's past history in these monuments, that 
brought us so completely into the presence, as it were, of 
those'kings and princes whom we are accustomed to look at 
through the dim distance of the past. 

We have only taken a hasty glance at the chapels, ami 
some of the most noteworthy monuments they contain. 
These are but appendages, as it were, to the great body of 
the abbey. 

There are still the south transept, the nave, north transept, 
ambulatory, choir, and cloisters to visit, all crowded with ele- 
gant groups of sculpture and bass-reliefs, to the memory of 
those whose names are as familiar to us as household words, 
and whose deeds are England's history. 

Almost the first portion of the abbey inquired for by Amer- 
icans is the " Poet's Corner," which is situated in the south 
transept ; and here we find the brightest names in English lit- 
erature recorded, not only those of poets, but of other writ- 
ers, though, among the former, one looks in vain for some 
memorial of one of England's greatest poets, Byron, for this 
tribute was refused to him in Westminster Abbey by his 
countrymen, and its absence is a bitter evidence of their 
ingratitude. 

Here we stand, surrounded by names that historians de- 
light to chronicle, poets to sing, and sculptors to carve. 
Here looks out the medallion portrait of Ben Jonson, poet 
laureate, died 1627, with the well-known inscription be- 
neath, — 

" rare Ben Jonson." 

There stands the bust of Butler, author of Hudibras, crowned 
with laurel, beneath which is an inscription which states 
that — 

•' Lest he who (when alive) was destitute of all things should (when 

dead) want likewise a monument, John Barber, citizen of 

London, hath taken sure by placing this 

stone over him. 1712." 



176 TRIBUTES TO GENIUS. 

All honor to John Barber. He has done what many a king's 
worldly friends have failed to do for the monarch they flat- 
tered and cajoled in the sunshine of his prosperity, and in 
so doing preserved his own name to posterity. 

A tablet marks the resting-place of Spenser, author of 
" The Faerie Queen," and near at hand is a bust of Milton. 
The marble figure of a lyric muse holds a medallion of the 
poet Gray, who died in 1771. The handsome monument of 
Matthew Prior, the poet and diplomatist, is a bust, resting 
upon a sarcophagus guarded by two full-length marble stat- 
ues of Thalia and History, above which is a cornice, sur- 
mounted by cherubs, the inscription written by himself, as 
follows : — 

*' Nobles and heralds, by your leave, 

Here lies what once was Matthew Prior, 
The son of Adam and of Eve — 

Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher? " 

Not far from this monument I found one of a youth 
crowning a bust, beneath which were theatrical emblems, the 
inscription stating it was to Barton Booth, an actor and poet, 
who died in 1733, and was the original Cato in Addison's 
tragedy of that name. 

The tomb of Geoffrey Chaucer — the father of English 
poetry, as he is called — is an ancient, altar-like structure, 
with a carved Gothic canopy above it. The inscription 
tells ns, — 

" Of English bards who sung the sweetest strains, 
Old Geoffrey Chaucer now this tomb contains ; 
For his death's date, if, reader, thou shouldst call, 
Look but beneath, and it will tell thee all." 
" 25 October, 1400." 

John Dryden's bust, erected by Sheffield, Duke of Buck- 
ingham, in 1720, bears upon its pedestal the following lines, 
by Pope : — 

" This Sheffield raised ; the sacred dust below 
Was Dryden once — the rest who does not know? " 



INTERESTING MEMORIALS. 177 

Thomas Campbell, the poet, has a fine full-length statue to 
hiu memory, representing him, book and pencil in hand, with 
the lyre at his feet ; and near by is the bust of Southey, poet 
laureate, who died in 1843. 

The well-known statue of Shakespeare, representing the 
immortal bard leaning upon a pile of books resting on a ped- 
estal, and supporting a scroll, upon which are inscribed lines 
from his play of " The Tempest," will, of course, claim our 
attention. Upon the base of the pillar on which the statue 
leans are the sculptured heads of Henry V., Richard II., and 
Queen Elizabeth. 

Thomson, author of the Seasons, has a monument repre- 
senting him in a sitting position, upon the pedestal of which 
representations of the seasons are carved. Gay's is a Cupid, 
unveiling a medallion of the poet, and one of his couplets : — 

"Life is a jest, and all things show it; 
I thought so once, but now I know it." 

On a pedestal, around which are grouped the Nine Muses, 
stands the statue of Addison, and a tablet near by bears the 
iamiliar profile likeness of Oliver Goldsmith, who died in 1774. 

There is a large marble monument to George Frederick 
Handel, which represents the great musician standing, with 
an organ behind him, and an angel playing upon a harp above 
it, while at his feet are grouped musical instruments and dra- 
pery. Another very elaborate marble group is that to the 
memory of David Garrick, which represents a life-size figure 
of the great actor, standing, and throwing aside with each 
hand a curtain. At the base of the pedestal upon which the 
statue rests are seated life-size figures of Tragedy and Com- 
edy. The names of other actors and dramatists also appear 
upon tablets in the pavement : Beaumont, upon a slab before 
Dryden's monument, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Cumber- 
land, &c. ; and one of the recent additions in the Poet's Cor- 
ner was a marble bust of Thackeray. 

In the nave I viewed with some interest a fine bust of 
Tsaac Watts, D. D., whose hymns are so familiar, and 
12 



178 CUTwIOUS SCULPTURES. 

among the earliest impressed upon the infant mind. Heie 
in the nave are a host of monuments, tablets, and bass-reliefs 
to naval and military heroes, scholars, and professors ; one, to 
Dr. Andrew Bell, represents him in his arm-chair (bass-relief), 
surrounded by his pupils ; another, to a president of the Royal 
Society, represents him. surrounded by books and manuscripts, 
globes, scientific instruments, &c. General George Wade 
has a great trophy of arms raised upon a sarcophagus, whicfo 
a figure of Time is represented as advancing to destroy, but 
whom Fame prevents. In the wall, in bass-relief, we found a 
group representing the flag of truce conveyed to General 
Washington, asking the life of Major Andre. This group is 
cut upon a sarcophagus, over which Britannia is represented 
weeping, and is the monument to that young officer, who was 
executed as a spy in the war of the American Revolution. 
Another monument, which attracts the attention of Amer- 
icans, is that erected to a Colonel Roger Townsend, who was 
killed by a cannon ball while recconnoitring the French lines 
at Ticouderoga, in 1759 ; it is a pyramid of red and white 
marble, against which are the figures of two American Indians 
in war costume, supporting a sarcophagus, on which is a fine 
bass-relief, representing the death on the battle-field. 

There are other modern monuments of very elaborate and 
curious designs, which are of immense detail for such work, 
and must have involved a vast deal of labor and expense ; as, 
for instance, that to General Hargrave, governor of Gibraltar, 
died in 1750, which is designed to represent the discomfiture 
of Death by Time, and the resurrection of the Just on the 
Daj of Judgment. The figure of the general is represented 
as starting, reanimated, from the tomb, and behind him a 
pyramid is tumbling into ruins, while Time has seized Death, 
and is hurling him to the earth, after breaking his fatal dart. 
Another is that to Admiral Richard Tyrrell, in which the 
rocks are represented as being rent asunder, and the sea giv- 
ing up its dead ; upon one side is the admiral's ship, upon 
which a figure stands pointing upwards to the admiral, who 
is seen ascending amid the marble clouds. 



STATUARY AND MONUMENTS. 179 

In the Tjave is also a half-length figure of Congrere, the 
dramatist, with dramatic emblems; and next it is the g\ave 
of Mrs. Oldfield, the actress, who, the guide tells us, was 
" buried in a fine Brussels lace head-dress, a Holland shift 
with a tucker and double ruffles of the same lace, a pair of 
Q(?w kid gloves, and her body wrapped up in a winding-sheet." 
At one end of the nave is a fine group ejected by govern- 
ment, in 1813, at a cost of six thousand three hundred 
pounds, to William Pitt, died 1806. It represents the great 
orator, at full length, in the act of addressing the House, while 
History, represented by a full-length figure seated at the base 
of the pedestal, is recording his words, and Anarchy, a full- 
length figure of a naked man, sits bound with chains. A 
monument erected by government to William Pitt, the Earl 
of Chatham, who died 1778, stands in a recess, and is much 
more elaborate. It represents him standing in the act of 
speaking; and below, grouped round a sarcophagus, are five 
life-size figures — Prudence, Fortitude, Neptune, Peace, and 
Britannia. This great group cost six thousand pounds 
sterling. 

But I find, on consulting the notes made of my visits to 
these interesting mausoleums of the great, that writing out 
fully a rehearsal of the memoranda would extend beyond the 
limits designed in these sketches. There were the monu- 
ments to Fox, the statesman, with Peace and the African 
kneeling at his feet ; to Sir Isaac Newton, the great philos- 
opher and mathematician ; William Wilberforce, the eminent 
abolitionist ; Warren Hastings ; a fine statue of George Can- 
ning, erected by his friends and countrymen — one of Eng- 
land's greatest orators, of whom Byron wrote, — 

" Who, bred a statesman, still was born a wit," — 

a full-length statue of Sir Robert Peel, erected by govern- 
ment at a cost of five thousand pounds ; and others, an idea 
of which may be gathered from the somewhat cursory de- 
scription of those already mentioned. 
Well, we have seen Westminster Abbey, Where to go 



180 LUXURY OF SIGH1 -SEEING. 

next? There is so much to see in London, and time is so 
short, weeks, months, might be spent here in hunting up 
the various interesting sights that we have stowed away in 
the storehouse of memory, for the time that we should need 
them. 

First, there are the scenes of the solid, square, historical 
facts, which, with care and labor, were taken in like heavy 
merchandise in school-boy days. The very points, localities, 
churches, prisons, and buildings where the events of history, 
that figure in our school-books, took place ; where we may 
look upon the very finger-marks, as it were, that the great, 
the good, the wicked, and the tyrannical have left behind 
them. Then there are the scenes that poets and novelists 
have thrown a halo of romance around, and those whose 
common every-day expressions are as familiar in America as 
in England, 

What young American, who has longed to visit London, 
and who, on his first morning there, as he prepares himself 
with all the luxurious feeling of one about to realize years of 
anticipation, but that runs over in his mind all that he has, 
time and again, read of in this great city, in history, story, and 
in fable, and the memory of the inward wish, or resolve, that 
he has often made to some day see them all ? Now, which 
way to turn ? Here they all are — Westminster Abbey, British 
Museum, St. Paul's, Old London Bridge, Hyde Park, Bank 
of England, Zoological Gardens, the Tower, the Theatres, 
Buckingham Palace, River Thames, and he has two or three 
weeks before going to the continent. 

A great many things may be seen in three weeks. 

That is very true in the manner that many of our country- 
men, who look merely at the face of countries, and bring 
home their empty words, see them ; but the tourist on his 
first visit abroad, before he has half a dozen weeks of experi- 
ence, begins to ascertain what a tremendous labor constant 
eight-seeing is. 

In London I have met American friends, who had the 
keenest desire to visit some of the streets described in Dickens's 



A PEUNT STEAMBOAT TRIP. 181 

works, and one who told me that he had just found, after a 
difficult search, Goswell Street, and had "walked down that 
thoroughfare till he found a house with a placard in the win- 
dow of " Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. In- 
quire within." And feeling pretty sure that Mrs. Bardell 
lived there, he had the Pickwickian romance all taken out of 
him by a sort of Sally-Brass-looking personage, who respond- 
ed to his inquiries, and confessed to the name of Finch, a sort 
of Chaff-Finch he thought, fi'om the sharp and acrid style of 
her treating his investigations. I confess, myself, to a brief 
halt at the Pimlico station, and a glance about to see what 
the expression, "everything in Pimlico order," meant, and 
came to the conclusion that it was because there were whole 
streets of houses there so painfully regular and so exactly 
like each other, as to excite my wonder how a man ever 
learned to recognize his own dwelling from his neighbors'. 

But it is a Sunday morning in London, and we will make 
an excursion up the River Thames on a penny steamboat. 
These little steam omnibuses are a great convenience, and 
are often so covered with passengers as to look like a floating 
mass of humanity ; the price is about a penny a mile, and a 
ride up to Kew Gardens, about seven miles from where I 
took the boat, cost me sixpence. The boats dart about on 
the liver with great skill and speed, and make and leave 
landings almost as quickly as an omnibus would stop to take 
up passengers. Americans cannot fail to notice that these 
boats have not yet adopted the signal bell to the engineer ; 
but that party has orders passed him from the captain, by 
word of mouth through a boy stationed at the gangway, and 
the shout of, "Ease-ar"! "Start-ar"! "Back-ar"! "Slow-ar"! 
" Go on," regulates the boat's movements, gives employment 
to one more hand, and enables Englishmen to hold on to an 
old notion. 

The sail up the Thames upon one of these little river 
steamers, of a fine day, is a very pleasant excursion. A good 
/iew of the Houses of Parliament and all the great London 
bridges is had, the little steamer passing direct\y under the 



182 KEW GARDENS. 

arches oF the latter; but at some of them, whose arches were 
evidently constructed before steam passages of this kind were 
dreamed of, the arches were so low that the smoke-pipe, con- 
structed with a hinge for that purpose, was lowered back- 
wards flat to the deck, and after passing the arch, at once 
resumed its upright position. Landing not far from Kew 
Green, we pursued our way along a road evidently used by 
the common classes, who came out here for Sunday excur- 
sions, for it was past a series of little back gardens of houses, 
apparently of mechanics, who turned an honest penny by 
fitting up these little plots into cheap tea gardens, by mak- 
ing arbors of hop vines or cheap running plants, beneath 
which tables were spread, and signs, in various styles of or- 
thography, informed the pedestrian that hot tea and tea 
cakes were always ready, or that boiling water could be had 
by those wishing to make their own tea, and that excursion 
parties could "take tea in the arbor" at a very moderate 
sum. 

Kew Gardens contain nearly three hundred and fifty 
acres, and are open to the public every afternoon, Sunday 
not excepted. Upon the latter day, which was when I visited 
them, there are — if the weather is pleasant — from ten to 
twelve thousand people, chiefly of the lower orders, present ; 
but the very best of order prevailed, and all seemed to be 
enjoying themselves very much. Beside the tea gardens, on 
the road of approach, just outside the gardens, there were 
every species of hucksters' refreshments — all kinds of buns, 
cakes, fruits, &c, in little booths and stands of those who 
vended them, for the refreshment of little family parties, or 
individuals who had come from London here to pass the 
day. Hot waffles were baked and sold at two pence each, as 
fast as the vender could turn his hand to it ; an uncertain 
port of coffee at two pence a cup, and tea ditto, were served 
out by a vender from a portable urn kept hot by a spirit 
lamp beneath it ; and servant girls out for a holiday, work- 
men with their wives and children, shop-boys and shop-nien, 
and throngs of work people, were streaming on in through the 



GARDENS AJSTD HOT-HOUSES. 183 

ornamented gates, beyond which boundary no costermonger 
is allowed to vend his wares, and within the precincts of the 
gardens no eating and throwing of fragments of fruit or food 
permitted. 

The gardens are beautifully laid out in pleasure-grounds, 
broad walks, groves, flower gardens, greensward, &c. — a 
pleasing combination of the natural and artificial ; the public 
may walk where they wish ; they may saunter here and there ; 
they may he down or walk on the greensward, only they must 
not pluck the flowers or break the trees and plants ; the gar- 
den is a perfect wealth of floral treasures. Seventy-five of 
its three hundred and fifty acres are devoted to the Botanic 
Gardens, with different hot-houses for rare and tropical plants, 
all open to the public. 

Here are the great Palm House, with its palm trees, screw 
pines, bananas, bamboos, sugar-canes, fig trees, and other vege- 
table wonders ; the Victoria Regia House, with that huge-leafed 
production spread out upon its waters, with specimens of 
lotus, lilies, papyrus, and other plants of that nature; the 
tropical hot-house, full of elegant flowery tropical plants ; a 
Fern House, containing an immense variety of ferns, and a 
building in which an extensive and curious collection of the 
cactus family are displayed. These hot-houses and nurseries 
are all kept in perfect order, heated with steam, and the 
plants in them properly arranged and classified. 

The great parterre of flowers presents a brilliant sight, 
showing all the rich and gorgeous hues, so skilfully arranged 
as to look in the distance like a silken robe of many colors 
spread upon the earth. These winding walks, ornamental 
buildings, ferneries, azalea, camellia, rhododendron, and heath 
" houses " afford every opportunity for the botanist to study 
the habits of plants, the lover of flowers to feast on their 
beauty, and the poor man and his family an agreeable, pleas- 
ant, and rational enjoyment. Then there is a museum of 
ad the different kinds of wood known in the world, and the 
forms into which it is or can be wrought. Here is rose-wood 
in the rough and polish; great rough pieces of mahogany »n 



184 THE "star and garter." 

a log, and wrought into a piece of elegant carving ; willow, 
in its long, slender wands, and twisted into elegant baskets ; 
a great chunk of iron-wood in the rough, or shaped with the 
rude implement and patient industry of the savage into an 
elaborately-wrought war-club or paddle ; tough lance-wood, 
and its carriage work beside it ; maple and its pretty panels , 
ash ; pine of every kind, and then numerous wonderful woodis 
I had never heard of, from distant lands, some brilliant in hue 
and elegant in grain, others curious in form, of wondrous 
weight or astonishing lightness ; ebony and cork-wood ; bam 
bos, sandal-wood, camphor, cedar and cocoa-wood; stunted 
sticks from arctic shores, solid timber from the temperate, and 
the curious fibrous stems of the tropics. It was really aston- 
ishing to see what an extensive, curious, and interesting collec- 
tion this museum of the different woods of the world formed. 

A short, brisk ride, of little more than a couple of miles, 
brought us to the celebrated Star and Garter Hotel,* at Rich- 
mond Hill, where one of the most beautiful English landscapes 
in the vicinity of London can be obtained. The hotel, which 
was situated upon a high terrace, commanded an extensive 
view of the Thames far below it, in its devious windings 
through a wooded country of hill and dale, with Windsor 
Castle in the distance. This house, so famed m novels and 
plays, is the resort of the aristocracy ; its terraced gardens are 
elegant, and Richmond Park, in the immediate vicinity, with 
its two thousand acres, is crowded every afternoon during the 
season with their equipages — equipages, however, which do 
not begin to compare in grace and elegance with those of 
Central Park, New York. 

There can be no pleasanter place to sit and dine of an 
afternoon in May than the dining-room of the Star and Gar- 
ter, with its broad windows thrown open upon the beautiful 
gardens, with then- terraces and gravelled walks running down 
towards the river, and rich in flowers, vases, and ornamental 
balustrades, with gay and fashionable promenaders passing to 

* Since the author's visit the " Star and Garter " has been destroyed 
D.y fire. 



THE ORIGINAL WAX WORKS. 185 

and fro, enjoying the scene. For more than a hundred feet 
below flashes the river, meandering on its crooked course, 
with pleasure-boats, great and small, sporting upon it; and, 
perched upon hill-sides and in pleasant nooks, here and there, 
are the beautiful villas of the aristocracy and wealthy people. 
The dinner was good, and served with true English disregard 
of time, requiring about two hours or less to accomplish ; t ; 
but the attendance was excellent, and the price of the enter- 
tainment could be only rivalled in America by one person — 
Delmonico. 

But then one must dine at the Star and Garter in order to 
answer affirmatively the question of every Englishman who 
learns that you have been to Richmond Hill, and who is aa 
much gratified to hear the cuisine and excellent wines of this 
hotel extolled by the visitor, as the splendid panoramic view 
from its windows, or the wild and natural beauties of the 
magnificent great park in the immediate neighborhood. 



CHAPTER VII. 

If there is any one exhibition that seems to possess interest 
to the inhabitants of the rural districts of both America and 
England, it is " wax works." Mrs. Jarley understood the 
taste of the English public in this direction, if we are to be- 
lieve her celebrated chronicler. Artemus Ward commenced 
his career Avith his celebrated collection of "wax figgers;" and 
one of the sights of London, at the present day, — and a sight, 
let me assure the reader, that is well worth the seeing, — is 
Madame Tussaud's " exhibition of distinguished characters." 

Let not the unsophisticated reader suppose that this is a 
collection of frightful caricatures, similar to those he has seen 
at travelling exhibitions or cheap shows, where one sees the 
same figure that has done duty as Semmes, the pirate, trans- 
formed, by change of costume, into the Duke of Wellington, 



186 MAD A ME TUSSAUD'S EXHIBITION. 

or Jefferson Davis, or that it is one of those sets of tigine* 
with expressionless-looking faces, and great, staring glans eyes, 
dressed in cast-off theatrical wardrobes, or garments sugges- 
tive of an old-clothes shop. Nothing of the sort. Madame 
Tussaud's exhibition was first opened in the Palais Royal, 
Paris, in 1772, and in London 1802, and is the oldest exhibi- 
tion of the kind known; and although the celebrated Madame 
is dead, her sons still keep up the exhibition, improving upon 
it each season, and display an imposing list of noble patrons 
upon their catalogue, among whom figure the names of Prince 
Albert, Louis XVIIL, the late Duke of Wellington, &c. 

The price of admission is a shilling; an additional sixpence 
is charged to visit the Chamber of Horrors ; and a catalogue 
costs the visitor another sixpence, so that it is a two-shilling 
affair, but richly worth it. The exhibition consists of a series 
of rooms, in which the figures, three hundred in number, are 
classified and arranged. The first I sauntered into was des- 
ignated the Hall of Kings, and contaiued fifty figures of 
kings and queens, from William the Conqueror to Victoria ; 
they were all richly clad in appropriate costumes, some armed 
with mail and weapons, and with faces, limbs, and attitudes 
so artistically and strikingly natural, as to startle one by their 
marvellous semblance of reality; then the costumes, oma- 
nents, and arms are exact copies of those worn at the different 
periods, and the catalogue asserts that the faces are carefully 
modelled from the best portraits and historical authorities. 

Here are William the Conqueror and his Queen Matilda ; 
here is William Rufus, with his red locks and covetous brow ; 
here stands Richard I. (Cceur de Lion), his tall figure enclosed 
in shirt of chain-mail ; and there sits King John, with dark 
frown and clinched hand, as if cursing the fate that compelled 
him to yield to the revolting barons, and sign Magna Charta ; 
Edward III. and his Queen, Philippa, the latter wearing a gir 
die of the order of knighthood ; and near at hand, Edward's 
noble, valiant son, the Black Prince — a magnificent figure 
looking every inch a warrior, and noble gentleman. The 
artist had succeeded in face, costume, and attitude in repre- 



HAL1, OF SOVEREIGNS. 187 

Bent in g in this work one of the most grand and ckivalrio- 
looking figures I ever looked upon, and which caused me, 
again and again, to turn and gaze at what appeared such an 
embodiment of nobleness and bravery as one might read of 
in poetry and romance, but never see in living person, 
Among others of great merit was the figure of Edward IV. 
in his coronation robes, who was considered the handsomest 
man of his time ; and Richard III. in a splendid suit of armor 
of the period, and the face copied from an original portrait 
owned by the Duke of Norfolk ; Henry VII. in the same 
splendid costume in which he figures on his monument in 
Westminster Abbey ; and then bluff old Henry VIII., habited 
in a full suit of armor, as worn by him on the Field of the 
Cloth of Gold. 

Queen Mary (Bloody Mary) in her rich costume; then 
comes Queen Elizabeth, dressed exactly as she is in Holbein's 
well-known picture at Hampton Court Palace ; Charles I. in 
the splendid suit of chevalier armor of his time ; and Oliver 
Cromwell in his russet boots, leather surcoat, steel gorget and 
breastplate, broad hat, and coarse, square features ; George III. 
in the robes of the Order of St. Patrick ; his majesty George 
IV. in that stunning costume of silk stockings, breeches, &c s 
and the robes of the Order of the Garter over it, in which he 
figures in the picture that we are all so familiar with. 

Then we have Victoria and her whole family, a formidable 
group in point of numbers, very well executed figures, and 
clad in rich and fashionably-made costumes, some of which 
are veritable court dresses, Which have been purchased after 
being cast aside by the wearers. Certainly the outfit cf these 
figures must be a heavy expense, as is evident to the most 
casual observer. 

So much for the hall of English sovereigns. The other 
statues embrace representations of other monarchs and cele- 
brated personages. Nicholas I. of Russia's tall figure looms 
up in his uniform of Russian Guards ; Napoleon III., Marshal 
St. Arnaud, and General Canrobert in their dresses of French 
generals; Abdul Medjid in full Turkish costume, and the 
Empress Eugenie in a splendid court dress. 



18S A CLEVEE DECEPTION. 

A very fine figure of Charlemagne in full armor, equipped 
for battle, which was manufactured for the great exhibition 
of 1862, is a splendid specimen of figure-work and modem 
armor manufacture. Then we came to a fine figure of Wol 
sey in his cardinal's dress. Mrs. Siddons in the character of 
Queen Katherine, Macready as Coriolanus, and Charles Kean 
as Macbeth, are evidence that the theatrical profession is re- 
membered, while Knox, Calvin, and "Wesley indicate attention 
to the clergy. 

The few American figures were for the most part cheaper 
affairs than the rest of the collection, and might be suspected, 
some of them, of being old ones altered to suit the times. 
For instance, that of General McClellan, President Lincoln 
and his Assassin, George Wilkes Booth, as the catalogue has 
it, would hardly pass for likenesses. 

There is a very natural, life-like-looking figure of Madame 
Tussaud herself, a little old lady in a large old-fashioned bon- 
net, looking at a couch upon which reposes a splendid figure 
of a Sleeping Beauty, so arranged with clock-work that the 
bosom rises and falls in regular pulsations, as if breathing 
and asleep. Madame Tussaud died in 1850, at the age of 
ninety years. 

A very clever deception is that of an old gentleman, seated 
in the middle of a bench, holding a programme in his hand, 
and apparently studying a large group of figures. By an in- 
genious operation of machinery, he is made to occasionally 
raise his head from the paper he is so carefully perusing, and 
regard the group in the most natural manner possible, and 
afterwards resume his study. This figure is repeatedly taken 
by strangers to be a living person, and questions or observa- 
tions are frequently addressed to it. One of my own party 
politely solicited the loan of the old gentleman's programme 
a moment, and only discovered, from the wooden character 
of the shoulder he laid his hand on, why he was not answered 
Ere long he had the satisfaction of witnessing another person 
ask the quiet old gentleman to " move along a bit," and re- 
peat the request till the smothered laughter of the spectators 
revealed the deception. 



KELICS OF NAPOLEON I. 189 

Perhaps the most interesting part of Madame Tussaud's 
Exhibition was the Napoleon rooms, containing an extensive 
collection of relics of Napoleon the Great. These relics 
are unquestionably authentic, and, of course, from their char- 
acter, of great value. There is the canrp bedstead upon 
which the great warrior rested during seven years of his 
weary exile at St. Helena, with the very mattresses and pil- 
lows upon which he died, and, in a glass case near by, the 
counterpane used upon the bed, and stained with his blood. 
This last, a relic, indeed, which the possessors might, as Mark 
Antony suggested of napkins dipped in dead Caesar's wounds, 

" Dying, mention it within their wills, 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
Unto their issue." 

This bed was purchased of Prince Lucien, Napoleon's brother, 
for four hundred and fifty pounds. Then, as if in mockery 
of human greatness, there was hung close by this death-bed 
the coronation robe of Napoleon, sold at the restoration of 
Louis XVIII., from the Cathedral of Notre Dame ; also the 
robe of the Empress Josephine, sold at the same time. Here, 
upon the bed, is a wax figure of the great emperor, partially 
enveloped in a cloak, the identical one he wore at the battle 
of Marengo, and which served as a pall when he was con- 
veyed to the grave in his rocky prison. 

In the room adjoining, the principal object of interest was 
the military carriage of the emperor, the same one in which 
hemade the campaign of Russia, and which was captured by 
the Prussians on the evening of the battle of Waterloo. 
Here also is the carnage used by him during his exile at St. 
Helena. Near by is the sword worn during the campaign in 
Egypt, his gold repeating watch, cameo ring, tooth-brushes, 
coffee-pot, camp knife, fork, and spoon, gold snuff-box, &c. 

But the most actual relic, perhaps, is a portion of the real 
corporeal Napoleon himself, being nothing more nor less than 
one of his teeth, which was drawn by Dr. O'Meara. Thes« 
relics are of a description to gratify the taste of the most in- 



190 THE CHAMBER OF HOEEOES. 

veterate relic-hunter. I give a few more that are pencilled in 
my note-book as attracting my own attention ; the atlas that 
Bonaparte used many years, and on which are the plans of 
several battles sketched by his own hand, — a most sugges- 
ts re relic this of, the anxious hours spent in poring over it 
by the great captain, who marked out on this little volume 
those plans which crumbled kingdoms and dissolved dynas- 
ties ; simple sketches to look upon, but which were once 
fraught with the fate of nations, — his dessert services, locks 
of his hair, camp service, shirts, under-waistcoats, and linen 
handkerchiefs, pieces of furniture, &c. Besides this large 
collection of relics of the great emperor, there are a number 
of other interesting historical relics of undoubted authenticity, 
such as the ribbon of Lord Nelson, a lock of Wellington's 
hair, George IV.'s handkerchief, the shirt of Henry IV. of 
France, the very one worn by him when assassinated by 
Ravaillac, and stained with the blood which followed the 
murderous knife, Lord Nelson's coat, the shoe of Pius VI., a 
ribbon of the Legion of Honor worn by Louis Philippe, coat 
and waistcoat of the Duke of Wellington, and, in a glass 
case, the three great state robes of George IV. These are 
of purple and crimson velvet, lined with ermine, and richly 
embroidered, the " three together containing five hundred and 
sixty-seven feet of velvet and embroidery," — so the catalogue 
tells you, — "and costing eighteen thousand pounds." 

The last department of this exhibition is one the name of 
which is quite familiar, and often quoted by American read- 
ers, viz., the Chamber of Horrors. The collection here is of 
figures of noted murderers and criminals, said to be portraits 
of the originals, and various models and relics. Perhaps the 
most interesting of the latter to the spectator is the original 
knife of the guillotine, used during the Reign of Terror in 
Paris. This axe, the catalogue tells us, was bought by Ma- 
dame Tussaud of Sanson, grandson of the original execu- 
tioner; and the now harmless-looking iron blade, that the 
spectator may lay his hands upon, is the terrible instrument 
that decapitated over twenty thousand human victims. It 



tOXDOU THEATRES. 191 

lias reeked with the blood of the good, the great, and the 
tyrannical — the' proudest blood of France and the basest. 
The visitor may well be excused a shudder as his hand 
touches the cold steel that has been bathed in the blood of 
the unfortunate Louis XVI., Marie Antionette, the tyrant 
Robespierre, and the thousands of unhappy victims that 
yielded up their lives beneath its fatal stroke. I confess that 
this Chamber of Horrors is unpleasantly interesting even to 
the sight-seer. I felt uncomfortable the brief time I spent there, 
bleathed freer as I emerged from it, and felt as if escaping 
pursuit from some of its ruffianly inmates as I dashed away 
through the throng of vehicles in a Hansom cab to my hotel. 

Theatre-going in London is an expensive amusement. In 
the theatres — that is, the good and respectable ones — there 
is no chance for people of moderate means, except the unde- 
sirable places that cannot be filled in any other way than by 
selling the admission at a rate within their reach. There is 
no theatre in London in size, appointments, and conveniences 
equal in all respects to the great ones in some of our large 
cities, and nothing that can compare with Booth's, of New 
York, or the Globe, of Boston. It is impossible to get such 
an entertainment as you may have in America at Booth's, 
Wallack's, or the Globe at anything like the price. 

For instance, at Drury Lane Theatre the prices are, stalls, 
one dollar and seventy-five cents, gold; dress circle, one dol- 
lar and twenty-eight cents ; second ditto, one dollar ; pit, fifty . 
cents ; gallery, twenty-five cents. It should be understood that 
" stalls " take in the whole of the desirable part of the parquet, 
and that some half dozen rows of extreme back seats, in the 
draught of the doors, and almost beyond hearing and sight of 
the stage, are denominated " the pit ; " and in some theatres it 
is a " pit " indeed. The auditoriums of their theatres are in no 
way so clean, well kept, or bright looking as those of leading 
American theatres in New York and Boston. Even at the 
old dirty Princess's Theatre, where I saw Shakespeare's An- 
tony and Cleopatra very handsomely put upon the stage, and 
Miss Glyn as Cleopatra, the orchestra stalls cost one dollai 



192 FULL DEESS AT THE OPEBA. 

and fifty cents, gold, and the pit, which was way back under 
the boxes, was vocal between the acts with venders of oranges, 
nuts, and ginger beer. 

The Lyceum Theatre, where I saw Fechter play, was t% 
neat and well-ordered establishment, and stalls, one dollar 
and sixty cents ; upper circle, one dollar ; pit, fifty cents. 1 
give the prices in American money, gold, that they may be 
compared with oar own. There is not a theatre in London 
where a performance, and accommodation to the auditor 
equal to that at the Boston Museum, can be had for three 
times the price of admission to that establishment. The 
prices above given being about the average at the leading 
theatres, what does the reader expect he will have to pay for 
the opera ? Let us see. 

At Her Majesty's Theatre, where I had the pleasure of 
listening to Nilsson in Traviata and Titiens, in Oberon, Fi- 
delio, &c, my play-bill informs me the prices are, pit stalls, 
fifteen shillings (about three dollars and forty cents in gold), 
boxes, two dollars and a half, and gallery, sixty cents. The 
pit, at this theatre, consists of four or five rows of narrow 
boards, at the extreme rear of the parquet, purposely made 
as narrow, uncomfortable, and inconvenient as can be, so 
that it is almost impossible to sit through a performance on 
them ; yet, during the one act that I occupied a seat there, it 
was nearly filled with very respectable people, in full dress, 
no one being admitted who is not so costumed. I presume 
that the labor expended to render these seats disagreeable, is 
to force the public into the higher-priced ones, which are easy, 
comfortable, and even luxurious, and where one may be 
pretty sure that he is in the best society. 

An American lady, who goes to the theatre or opera in 
London, must remember that she will not be permitted to 
enter the stalls or boxes with a bonnet on, no matter ftow 
infinitesimal, elegant, or expensive it may be. Full dress 
means, no bonnet for ladies, and dress coats, dark vests and 
pantaloons for gentlemen. A lady seen passing in with bon- 
net on is expected to leave it at the cloak-room, to be re- 



PLAY BILLS. 198 

deemed by payment of sixpence on coming out; and no 
amount of argument will admit an independent American 
voter, who comes in a frock coat and drab pantaloons. J 
saw an ingenious American once, who overcame the frock 
coat difficulty by stepping outside, and getting his companion 
to pin up Ihe skirts of that offending garment at each side, 
so that it made an extemporaneous "claw hammer" that 
passed without question. 

Bills of the play are not furnished by the theatre to its 
patrons. You buy a big one for a penny of a boy outside 
the theatre, as you arrive at the door, that will soil your kid 
gloves with printer's ink ; or a small one, for two or three 
pence, of the usher inside, who shows you a seat, and 
"expects something," as everybody does, in England. At 
the opera your bill will cost you sixpence, for it is expected 
that " the nobs " who go there never carry anything so base 
as copper in their pouches. Indeed, I noticed that one of 
the aforesaid ushers, to whom I handed a shilling, stepped 
briskly away, and omitted to return me any change. I 
learned better than to hand ushers shillings, and expect 
change, after a few nights' experience, and had threepences 
ready, after the English style. 

We need not go through a description of the theatres ol 
London. There are as many varieties, and more, than in 
New York ; and you may go from the grand opera, which ia 
the best of that kind of entertainment, to the Alhambra, a 
grand variety affair, but most completely got up in all depart- 
ments, or the cheaper theatres, where the blood-and-thunder 
drama is produced for a shilling or sixpence a ticket. 

The appearance of the dress circle boxes at the opera is 
magnificent. The ladies fairly blaze with diamonds and 
jewels, while silks, luxurious laces, splendid fans, scarfs, 
shawls, and superb costumes, make a brilliant picture that it 
is interesting to look upon. The extreme decollete style of 
dress, however, was most remarkable. I have seen nothing 
to compare with it, even at the Jardin Mabille, or at the Cafes 
Chantants, in Paris, where the performers are wont to make 
13 



194 MANAGERIAL LIBERALITY. 

so much display of their charms. Upon the stage, such un- 
dressing of the neck and bust would excite severe criticism, 
but in the fashionable boxes of the opera, it passes unchal- 
lenged. 

The liberal encouragement which the opera receives in 
England enables the management to produce it in far more 
complete and perfect style than it is usually seen in America. 
Indeed, some of the wretched, slipshod performances thav 
have been given under the name of grand opera in America, 
would be hissed from the stage in London, Paris, or Italy. 
In operatic performances in America, we have the parts of 
two or three principals well done, but all else slipshod and 
imperfect, and the effect of the opera itself too frequently 
marred by the outrageous cuttings, transpositions, and altera- 
tions made by managers to adapt it to their resources. 

The production of the opera in London is made with an 
orchestra of nearly a hundred performers, a well-trained cho- 
rus of sixty voices, dresses of great elegance, and correct and 
appropriate costume and style, even to the humblest per- 
former. The opera, in all its details, is well performed, and 
the music correctly given; the scenery and scenic effects 
excellent, the auxiliaries abundant, so that a stage army 
looks something like an army, and not a corporal's guard ; a 
village festival something like that rustic celebration, and not 
bke the caperings of a few Hibernians, who have plundered 
a pawnbroker's shop, and are dancing in the stolen clothes. 

Apropos of amusements, a very pleasant excursion is it by 
rail to the Sydenham Crystal Palace, where great cheap con- 
certs are given, and one of those places in England where 
the people can get so much amusement, entertainment, and 
recreation for so little money. A ticket, including admission 
to the j^alace and grounds, and passage to and from London 
on the railroad, is sold at a very low sum, the entertainment 
being generally on Saturdays, which, with many, is a half 
holiday. Two of the London railways unite in a large, hand- 
some station at Sydenham, from which one may walk undei 
a broad, cq "ered passage directly into the palace, this cov 



& PALACE FOE THE PEOPLE. 195 

ered way being a colonnade seven hundred and twenty feet 
long, seventeen feet wide, and twenty feet high, reaching 
one of the great wings of the palace. 

And this magnificent structure, its splendid grounds and 
endless museum of novelties, is' a monument of English pub- 
lic spirit and liberality ; for it was planned, erected, and the 
whole enterprise carried out by a number of gentlemen, who 
believed that a permanent edifice, like the one which held the 
great exhibition in Hyde Park in 1851, would be of great 
benefit in furthering the education of the people, and affording 
sensible and innocent recreation at the cheapest possible rate. 
And rigbt nobly have they performed their work in the ' pro- 
duction of this magnificent structure, which fairly staggers 
the American visitor by its beauty, as well as its vastness, 
and its wondrous grace and lightness. It is a great monu- 
ment of graceful curves and flashing glass, situated upon the 
summit of a gradual slope, with superb broad terraces, 
adorned with statues, grand flights of steps descending to 
elegantly laid out grounds, with shrubs, flowers, trees, foun- 
tains, ponds, rustic arbors, and beautiful walks ; and these 
front terraces and grounds commanding one of those splendid 
landscape pictures for which England is so celebrated. 

There is no better way of giving the reader an idea of the 
size of this magnificent structure, than by means of a few 
figures. The palace was completed in 1854 by a joint-stock 
company of gentlemen. It occupies, with its gardens and 
grounds, about three hundred acres, and cost, when com- 
pleted, with its gardens, nearly two million pounds sterling. 
Think of the public being able to visit this splendid place 
for one shilling ! 

The length of the main building of the palace is over six- 
teen hundred feet ; the width throughout the nave, three hur- 
dred and twelve feet, which, at the grand centre, is increased 
to three hundred and eighty-four feet ; in addition to which 
are two great wings, of five hundred and seventy-four feet 
each ; the height, from floor to ceiling, one hundred and ten 
feet; twenty-five acres of glass, weighing five hundred tons, 



196 A GIGANTIC AUDIENCE. 

were used in the building, and nine thousand six hundred 
and forty-one tons of iron. Graceful galleries run around the 
sides, and grand mammoth concerts and other entertainments 
are given in the central transept, the arch of which rises in 
a graceful span to the height of one hundred and seventy-five 
feet : the whole of one end of this transept is occupied by 
seats, rising one above the other, for the accommodation of 
four thousand peril rmers, who performed at the great Handel 
Festival. A great organ, built expressly for the place, occu- 
pies a position at the rear of these orchestra seats. 

I was present at a grand musical performance in this tran- 
sept, and, from an elevated seat in the orchestra, had a superb 
view of the whole audience below, which occupied chairs 
placed in the transept; these chairs which now faced the 
organ and orchestra, when turned directly about, would face 
the stage of a theatre, upon which other performances were 
given. The view of the crowd, from the elevated position 1 
occupied, gave it the appearance of a huge variegated flower- 
bed, and its size may be realized when the reader is informed 
that there were eight thousand people present ; besides these, 
there were between three and four thousand more in different 
parts of the building and grounds. I obtained these figures 
from the official authorities, who informed me that on greater 
occasions, when the performance is more attractive, or upon 
whole holidays, the number is very much larger. 

The nave is divided into sections, or courts ; such as the 
Sheffield Court, Manufacturing Court, Glass and China Court, 
Stationary Court, Egyptian Court, Italian Court, Renaissance 
Court, &c. These courts are filled with the products of the 
industry or art of the periods for which they are named. 
Thus, in the English Mediasval Court are splendid reproduc- 
tions of mediaeval architecture, such as the elegant doorway 
of Rochester Cathedral, doorway of Worcester Cathedral, the 
splendid Easter sepulchre from Hawton Church, the monu- 
ment of Humphrey de Bohun from Hereford Cathedral, with 
the effigy of the knight in complete armor, and various archi- 
tectural specimens from the ancient churches and magnlfi- 



A. SUPERB PROMENADE. 197 

«eut cathedrals of England, all exact counterfeit presentments, 
executed in a sort of composition in imitation of the original. 
The Renaissance Court contains elegant reproductions of cele- 
brated specimens of architecture of that period, elaborate 
and profuse in decoration. Then we have the Elizabethan, 
Italian, and Greek Courts, each a complete museum in itself 
of reproductions of architecture, and celebrated monuments 
of -their periods. The Sheffield, Manufacturers, Glass and 
China Courts, &c, contain splendid exhibitions of specimens 
of the leading manufacturers, of those species of goods, of 
some of the best products of their factories. 

Stalls are prepared for the sales of the lighter articles, and 
attendants are present at the different show-cases, or depart- 
ments to make explanations, or take orders from visitors who 
may be inclined. The display of English manufactures was 
a very good one, and the opportunity afforded them to dis- 
play and advertise them, well improved by exhibitors. The 
interior of the palace contains also a great variety of statues, 
casts, models, artistic groups, and other works of art. The 
visitor need not leave for refreshments, as large and welh 
served restaurants for ladies and gentlemen are at either end 
of the building, beneath its roof. 

Leaving the building for the grounds, we first step out 
upon a great terrace, fifteen hundred and seventy-six feet in 
length and fifty feet wide. Upon its parapet are twenty-six 
allegorical marble statues; and from this superb promen- 
ade the spectator has a fine view of the charming land- 
scape, backed by blue hills in the distance, and the beautiful 
grounds, directly beneath the terrace, which are reached by a 
broad flight of steps, ninety-six feet wide, and are picturesque- 
ly laid out. A broad walk, nearly one hundred feet wide, 
six or eight fountains throwing up their sparkling streams, 
artificial lakes, beds of gay-colored flowers, curious ornamental 
temples and structures, tend to make the whole novel and 
attractive. After a stroll in this garden, visitors may saunter 
off to the other adjacent grounds at pleasure. 

Leaving the gardens directly in front of the palace for the 



198 THE PARKS OF LONDON. 

extensive pleasure-grounds connected with it, we passed 
through a beautiful shaded lane, and came first to the archery 
grounds, where groups were trying their skill in that old 
English pastime. Not far from here, a broad, level place, 
with close-cut, hard-rolled turf, was kept for the cricketing 
grounds, where groups of players were scattered here and 
there, enjoying that game. Near by are rifle and pistol shoot- 
ing galleries. In another portion of the grounds is an angling 
and boating lake, a maze, American swings, merry go-arounds, 
and other amusements for the people, the performances of 
those engaged in these games affording entertainment to 
hundreds of lookers-on. 

A whole day may be very pleasantly and profitably spent 
at the Sydenham Palace, the attractions of which we have 
given but the merest sketch of; and that they are appreciated 
by the people is evidenced by the fact that the number of 
visitors are over a million and a half per annum. The rail- 
road companies evidently make a good thing of it, and by 
means of very cheap excursion tickets, especially on holidays, 
induce immense numbers to come out from the city. 

This Crystal Palace is the same one which stood in Hyde 
Park; only when it rose again at Sydenham, it was with many 
alterations and improvements. It was a sad sight to see, 
when we were there, large portions of the northern end, in- 
cluding that known as the tropical end, — the Assyrian and 
Byzantine Courts, — in ruins from the effects of the fire a few 
years ago; yet that destroyed seems small in comparison 
with the immense area still left. 

The parks of London have been described so very often 
that we must pass them with brief allusion. Their vast ex- 
tent is what first strikes the American visitor with astonish- 
ment, especially those who have moulded their ideas after 
Boston Common, or even Central Park of New York. Hyde 
Park, in London, contains three hundred and ninety acres ; 
and we took a lounge in Rotten Row at the fashionable 
hour, between five and six in the afternoon, when the drive 
was crowded with stylish equipages; some with coroneted 



ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. 199 

panels and livened footmen, just such as we see in pictures. 
Then there were numerous -equestrians, among whom were 
gentlemen mounted upon magnificent blood horses, followed 
at a respectful distance by their mounted grooms, and grace- 
fully tipping their hats to the fair occupants of the carriages. 
Mounted policemen, along the whole length of the drive, pre- 
vented any carriage from getting out of line or creating con- 
fusion; and really the display of splendid equipages, fine 
horses, and beautiful women, in Hyde Park, of an afternoon, 
during the season, is one of the sights of London that no 
stranger should miss. 

Every boy in America, who is old enough to read a story- 
book, has heard of the Zoological Gardens at Regent's Park, 
London ; and it is one of the sights that the visitor, no matter 
how short his visit, classes among those he must see. This 
collection of natural history specimens was first opened to 
the public as long ago as 1828; it is one in which the Lon- 
doners take great pride, and the Zoological Society expend 
large sums of money in procuring rare and good living speci- 
mens. Improvements are also made every year in the 
grounds, and the exhibition is now a most superb and in- 
teresting one, and conducted in the most liberal manner. 

Visitors are admitted on Mondays at sixpence each ; on 
other days the price of admission is a shilling. Here one has 
an opportunity of seeing birds and animals with sufficient 
space to move about and stretch then* limbs in, instead of the 
cruelly cramped quarters in which we have been accustomed to 
view them confined in travelling menageries, so cruelly small 
as to call for action of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 
to Animals, to interfere in behalf of the poor brutes, who 
often have only space to stand up in, and none to move about 
in, although their nature be one requiring exercise ; and thoj 
therefore become poor, spiritless specimens, dying by slow 
torture of close confinement. 

Here, however, the visitor finds different specimens of 
eagles, vultures, and other huge birds, each in great cages 
twenty feet high, and nearly as many square ; owls, hawks, 



200 GORGEOUS BIRDS AND WONDERFUL BEASTS. 

and other birds of prey, with cages big enough to fly about 
in ; ibis, elegant flamingoes, pelicans, and water birds, in large 
enclosures, with ponds for them to enjoy their favorite 
pursuits. For some of the smaller birds aviaries were ar- 
ranged, the size of a large room, part of it out in the o^.en 
air, with shrubs and trees, and the other half beneath shelter — 
a necessity for some species of tropical birds. One, therefore, 
might look upon the flashing plumage and curious shapes of 
tropical birds flitting among the trees, and see all colors and 
every variety at the different aviaries. I saw the sea birds 
in a place which, by artificial means, was made to represent 
the sea-shore ; there were rocks, marine plants, sea shells, 
sand, and salt water; and ducks, sandpipers, and gulls dove, 
ran and flew about very much as if they were at home. 
Passing into a house devoted exclusively to parrots, we were 
almost deafened by the shrieking, cat-calls, whistling, and 
screaming of two or three hundred of every hue, size, kind, 
and variety of these birds; there were gorgeous fellows with 
crimson coronets, and tails a yard in length, — blue, green, 
yellow, crimson, variegated, black, white, in fact every known 
color: the din was terrific, and the shouting of all sorts of 
parrot expressions very funny. 

The collection of birds is very large, from the little wren 
to great stalking ostriches, vultures, and bald eagles, and 
only lacked the great condor of South America. 

The animals were well cared for. Here were a pair of 
huge rhinoceroses enjoying themselves in a large, muddy 
pond in the midst of their enclosure, a stable afforded them 
dry in-door quarters when they chose to go in, and a passage 
through these stables enabled visitors always to see the 
animals when they were in-doors. Two huge hippopotami 
were also similarly provided for. Next came several ele- 
phants, great and small, with outer enclosures, where they 
received donations of buns and fruit, and stables for private 
life ; also a splendid specimen of the giraffe, &c. 

There was a vast collection of different specimens of deer, 
from the huge antlered elk to the graceful little gazelle, the 
size of an English terrier. 



SNAKES AND MONKEYS. "201 

Then w\i came to the bear-pits. Here sauntered a great 
polar bear in a large enclosure, in which a tank of water was 
provided for his bearship to disport himself; a loDg row of 
great roomy cages of lions, tigers, leopards, and panthers, 
with their supple limbs, sleek hides, and wicked eyes ; a 
splendid collection of the wolf, fox, and raccoon tribe ; speci- 
mens of different varieties of sheep ; the alpaca, zebras, cam- 
els, elands, and bison ; enclosed ponds, with magnificent speci- 
mens of water fowl from all parts of the world ; then there 
was the beaver pond, with his wood, and his dam, and hut ; 
the seal tank and otter pond, with their occupants not always 
in view, but watched for by a curious crowd ; and, near by, a 
house full of specimens of arm >dillos, and other small and 
curious animals. 

The reptile house, with its collection of different specimens 
of snakes, from the huge boa constrictor to the small, wicked- 
looking viper, was not a pleasant sight to look upon ; but one 
of the most popular departments of the whole exhibition was 
the monkey house, a building with amj:>le space for displaying 
all the different specimens of this mischievous little carica- 
ture of man. In the centre of the room was a very large 
cage, fitted up with rings, ladders, trapezes, bars, &c, like a 
gymnasium, and in this the antics of a score of natural acro- 
bats kept the spectators, who are always numerous in this 
apartment, in a continued roar of laughtei*. 

Nut the least amusing performance here was that of a huge 
old monkey, the chief of the "age by common consent, who, 
after looking sleepily for some half hour at the performances 
of his lesser brethren from the door of his hut in a lofty cor- 
ner, suddenly descended, and, as if to show what he could do, 
immediately went through the whole performances seriatim. 
He swung by the rings, leaped from trapeze to trapeze, swung 
from ladder to bar, leaped from shelf to shelf, sent small mon- 
keys flying and screaming in every direction, and then, amid 
a general chattering and grinning, retired to his perch, and, 
drawing a piece of old blanket about his shoulders, looked 
calmly down upon the scene below, like a rheumatic old man 
at the antics of a party of boys. 



202 THE TOWEB OF LONDON. 

The young visitors at the Zoological Gardens have oppor- 
tunity afforded them to ride the elephants and camels, and a 
band plays in the gardens on Saturdays. Members of the 
society have access to a library, picture gallery, and enjoy 
various other advantages in assistance of the study and in- 
vestigation of natural history. 

The Tower of London ! How the scenes of England's his- 
tory rise before the imagination, in which this old fortress, 
palace and prison by turns, has figured ! It is a structure of 
which every part seems replete with story, and every step the 
visitor makes brings him to some point that has an interest 
attached to it from its connection with the history of the past. 

The Tower has witnessed some of the proudest pageants of 
England's glory, and some of the blackest deeds of her tyran 
ny and shame. The names of fair women, brave men, sol- 
diers, sages, monarchs, and nobles, — 

" Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,"- 

are twined within its chronicles, and its hard, pitiless stones 
have frozen hope into despair in some of the noblest hearts 
that ever beat on English soil. 

Here Lady Jane Grey fell beneath the headsman's axe ; 
Clarence was drowned in the butt of Malmsey; Anne Boleyn 
was imprisoned, and later her proud daughter, Princess, after- 
wards Queen, Elizabeth, passed a prisoner through the water- 
gate ; Buckingham, Stafford, William Wallace, Essex, Eliza- 
beth's favorite, Lord Bacon, Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley 
heard its gates clang behind them ; King Henry VI. and the 
princes were murdered here by Richard III.'s orders. But 
why continue the catalogue of names, of deeds, and of scenes 
that come thronging into one's mind as we approach this an- 
cient pile, th it is invested with more historic interest than 
any other European palace or prison ? 

Its foundation dates back to the time of Csesar, and one 
of the towers is called Caesar's Tower to this day, though 
the buildings, as they now stand, were commenced in the 
time of William the Conqueror. 

Shakesj)eare has made this grim fortress so prominent a 



THE TOWER GUARD. 203 

picture in his plays, that, with the same fancy that one looks 
for Shylock to-day ujdoii the crowded Rialto, does the vis- 
itor, on approaching the Tower, shudder as if he were to en- 
counter the crooked form of Gloucester, or hear, in the dark 
passages, the mournful wail of the spirits of the two innocent 
princes, torn from their mother's amis, and dying by his cruel 
mandate. 

We sought the Tower on foot, I at soon becoming entangled 
ia a maze of crooked, narrow, and dirty streets, which doubt- 
less might be very interesting to the antiquarian, but rather 
disagreeable to the stranger, we were glad to hail a cab, and 
be driven down to it, Here we found that the Tower of 
London was a great fortress, with over thirteen acres enclosed 
within its outer wall and the principal citadel, or White Tower, 
as it is called, with its one round and three square steeples, the 
most prominent one in view on approaching, and in appear- 
ance that which many of us are familiar with from engravings. 

There are no less than thirteen towers in the enclosure, viz. : 
the Bloody Tower, the Bell Tower, Beauchamp Tower, 
Devereux Tower, Flint Tower, Bowyer Tower, Brick Tower, 
Jewel Tower, Constable Tower, Salt Tower, Record Tower, 
and Broad Arrow Tower. We come to the entrance gate, 
where visitors are received, and wait in a little office until 
twelve are assembled, or a warder will take charge of a party 
every half hour to go the rounds. The site of this building 
was where the lions were formerly kept. The warders, in 
their costume of yeomen of the guard of Henry VIII.'s 
time, are among the curiosities of the place. Their uniform, 
consisting of a low-crowned velvet hat, surrounded by a sort of 
garland, a broad ruff about the neck, and dark-blue frock, or 
tunic, with the crown, rose, shamrock, and thistle on the 
breast, and other embroidery upon the skirts, flaps, and belts, 
with trunks gathered at the knee with a gay-colored rosette, 
tight silk stockings and rosetted shoes, looked oddly enough, 
and as if some company of supernumeraries* engaged for a 
grand theatrical spectacle, had come out in open daylight. 
These warders are principally old soldiers, who receive tho 
position as a reward for bravery or faithful service. 



204 TRAITORS GATE AND ARMORY,, 

The Tower is open to visitors from ten to four ; the fee of 
admission sixpence, and sixpence more is charged for admis- 
sion to the depository of the crown jewe 1 ^ ; conspicuous 
placards inform, the visitor that the warders have no right to 
demand or receive any further fee from visitors; but who has 
ever travelled in England, and gone sight-seeing there, but 
knows this to be, if he is posted, an invitation to try the 
power of an extra shilling when occasion occurs, and which 
he generally finds purchases a desirable addition to his coai- 
fort and enjoyment? 

However, on we go, having purchased tickets and guide- 
books, following the warder, who repeats the set description, 
that he has recited so often, in a tedious, monotonous tone, 
from which he is only driven by the curious questions of 
eager Yankees, often far out of his depth in the way of 
knowledge of what certain rooms, towers, gates, and pas- 
sages are noted for. We hurried on over the moat bridge, 
and halted to look at Traitor's Gate ; and I even descended to 
stand upon the landing-steps where so many illustrious pris- 
oners had stepped from the barge on their way to the prisons. 
Sidney, Russell, Cranmer, and More had landed here, and 
Anne Boleyn's dainty feet, and Elizabeth's high-heeled slip- 
pers pressed its clamj) stones. On we pass by the different 
towers, the warder desirous of our seeing what appears to 
him (an old soldier) the lion of the place — the armory of 
modern weapons, which we are straightway shown. Thou- 
sands and thousands of weapons — pistols, swords, cutlasses, 
and bayonets — are kept here, the small arms being arranged 
most ingeniously into a number of astonishing figures. Hei e 
were the Prince of Wales's triple feather in glittering bayonets, 
a great sunburst made wholly of ramrods, a huge crown of 
swords, and stars, and Maltese crosses of pistols and bayonets ; 
the serried rows of muskets, rifles, and small arms in the 
great hall would have equipped an army of a hundred 
thousand. 

But we at last got into the Beauchamp, or "Beechum" 
Tower, as oiu guide called it; and here we began to visit the 



martyrs' autographs. 205 

prisons ui the unhappy captives that have fretted their proud 
spirits i n this gloomy fortress. Upon the walls of the guarded 
rooms they occupied they have left inscriptions and sculpture 
nought with rude instruments and infinite toil, during the 
tedious hours of their imprisonment. Here is an elaborate 
carving, by Dudley, Earl of Warwick, brother to the Lord 
Dudley who married Lady Jane Grey. It is a shield, bearing 
the Lion, Bear, and Ragged Staff, and surrounded by a wreath 
of oak leaves, roses, and acorns, all cut in the stone, and under- 
neath an inscription, in Old English letters, stating that his four 
brothers were imprisoned here. In another room is the word 
Jane cut, which is said to refer to Lady Jane Grey, and to have 
been cut by her husband. Marmaduke Neville has cut his name 
in the pitiless stone, and a cross, bleeding heart, skeleton, and 
the word Peverel, wrought under it, tell us that one of the 
Peverels of Devonshire has been confined here : over the fire- 
place the guide points us to the autograph of Philip How- 
ard, Earl of Arundel, Avho was beheaded in 1572 for aspiring 
to the hand of Mary, Queen of Scots. Arthur Poole, who con- 
spired to place Mary on the English throne, left an inscription 
" I. H. S. A passage perillus makethe a port pleasant." 1568. 
A. Poole. Numerous other similar mementos are shown, 
cut in the walls of the apartments of this tower, the work of 
the prisoners who formerly occupied them, and the names 
thus left are often those who figure in English history. 

In the White Tower we were shown a room, ten by eight, 
receiving fight only from the entrance, which, it is stated,' was 
one of the rooms occupied by Sir Walter Raleigh, and that in 
it he wrote his History of the World. Right in front of this, 
in the centre of the room, stands the beheading-block that 
has been used on Tower Hill, and the executioner's axe be- 
side it, which, in Elizabeth's reign, severed Essex's head from 
his body. The block bears the marks of service in the shape 
of more than one dint from the weapon of death. Some idea 
of the strength of this tower, and its security as a prison, may 
be had from the walls, which are from twelve to fourteen feet 
in thickness. In this White Tower is the great Council Cham- 



206 THE SILVER KEY. 

ber of the early English kings, and here, beneath the great, 
massive-timbered roof, we stand where King Richard II. 
resigned his crown to Bolingbroke, in 1399. We pass on 
to the Brick Tower, another prison, where Raleigh was 
once confined — Raleigh, the friend of Bacon and Shake- 
speare, who here spent the last ten days of his life, and many 
a weary year before. But we found there was one tower, 
among others, that was not visited by the guide with our 
party; it was the one of all others we wished to see — 
the Bloody Tower. 

" We are not hallowed to show that," said our guide, in 
response to our solicitations. 

" Is it not possible ? " said I, in a low tone, putting one 
hand into my pocket, jingling some loose silver, and looking 
the burly warder in the eye, as I fell back a little from the 
rest of the party. 

"Hi couldn't say really, but (sotto voce, as a shilling 
dropped into his palm, that was conveniently open behind 
him) hif you'll lag be'ind the party when they go out, I'll 
see what can be done." 

We took occasion to follow the warder's hint, and after he 
had conducted the others to the gate, he returned, and took 
us to the room over the entrance-gate in which the princes 
were lodged, and where, by their uncle's order, they were 
smothered. This little room — about twelve feet square — 
has an inner window, through which, it is said, Tyrell, the 
crook-back tyrant's instrument, looked, after the murder had 
been done by his hired ruffians, to be sure that his master's 
fell purpose was complete. This room, small as it was, had a 
pleasant outlook, commanding views of the interior of the 
Tower wards and gardens — in fact, it used to be called Gar- 
den Tower — and the Thames River. The stairs leading 
from this part of the Tower to the gateway were shown us, 
and the place, not far from their foot, where the supposed re- 
mains of these unfortunate princes were afterwards discovered, 
and removed and interred at Westminster Abbey. 

After seeing various dismal vaults and cell?, which our 



SITE OP THE SCAFFOLD. 207 

guide, desirous of showing his appreciation of our bounty, 
conducted us to beneath the towers, holding his candle to 
sliow the carving made by wretched prisoners by the dim 
light that struggled in when they were confined there, ho 
took us to one, his description of which rather shook our faith 
in Iris veracity. It was a small, arched cell, about ten feet 
high, and not more than four feet deep, without grating, 
window, or aperture, except a door. 

" This," said he, swinging open the huge iron-strapped and 
bolted door, " this was Guy Fawkes's dungeon ; he was con- 
fined here three days, with no more light and h'air than he 
could get through the key-'ole." 

" But," said I, " no man could live in that cell half a day ; 
he would die for lack of air." 

•* But," said our cicerone, depreciatingly, " your Aonoi 
doesn't consider the size of the key-'ole." 

No, but we did the size of the story, and felt convinced 
that we were getting a full shilling's worth extra. 

But if there were any doubt about the Guy Fawkes cell, 
there was none about many other points of historical interest, 
which, after learning the names of a few of the principal ones, 
could be easily located by those familiar with the history of 
the Tower, and even by those of us who only earned some 
of the leading events of England's history in mind. One 
of these points was a little enclosed squai'e, in front of St. 
Peter's Chapel, in the open space formed by that edifice or> 
one side, Beauchamp Tower on the other, and the White 
Tower on the third, in the place known as Tower Green. 
This little square, of scarce a dozen feet, railed with iron to 
guard the bright greensward from profane tread, is the spot 
on which stood the scaffold, where, on the 19th of May, 1536, 
Anne Boleyn bent her fair head to the block; the fall of 
which beneath one blow of the executioner's sword, was an- 
nounced by the discharge of a gun from the Tower ramj>arts, 
so that her husband, that savage and brutal British king, 
who was hunting fn Epping Forest, might be apprised that 
she had yielded up her life ; and history tells us that this royal 



208 .AMBITIOITS VICTIMS. 

brute of the * sixteenth century returned that very evening 
gayly from the chase, and on the following morning married 
Jane Seymour. 

Here, also, upon the earth enclosed in the little square 
round which we were standing, poured forth the precious 
blood of Bloody Mary's victim, Lady Jane Grey; here is 
where, after saying to the executioner, " I pray you despatch 
me quickly," she knelt down, groped for the fatal block, bent 
her innocent neck, and passed, with holy words upon her 
lips, into that land where opposing creeds shall not harass, 
nor royal ambition persecute. 

Here also was that murder (it could not be called execu- 
tion) done by order of Henry VIII. on the Countess of 
Salisbury, a woman, seventy years of age, condemned to 
death without any form of trial whatever ; who, conscious of 
her innocence, refused to place her head upon the block. 
" So traitors used to do, and I am no traitor," said the brave 
old countess, as she struggled fiercely with her murderers, 
till, weak and bleeding from the soldiers' pikes, she was 
dragged to the block by her gray hair, held down till the ex- 
ecutioner performed his office, and the head of the last of the 
Plantagenets, the daughter of the murdered Clarence, fell; 
and another was added to the list of enormities committed 
by the bloated and sensual despot who wielded the sceptre 
of England. 

The soil within this little enclosure is rich with the blood 
of the innocent victims of royal tyranny; and it was not 
astonishing that we lingered here beyond the patience of 
our guide. 

The collection of ancient armor and arms at the Tower is 
one of great interest, especially that known as the Horse 
Armory, which contains, besides a large and curious collection 
of portions of armor and weapons, a great number of equestri- 
an figures, fully armed and equipped in. suits of armor of 
various periods between Edward I., 1272, and the death 01 
James I., 1625. This building is over one hundred and fifty 
feet long, by about thirty-five wide, and is occupied by a 



KNIGHTS IN ARMOR. 209 

double rovv of these figures, whose martial and life-like ap- 
pearance almost startles the visitor as he steps in amid this 
warlike array of mailed knights, all in the different attitudes 
of the tilting ground or battle-field, silent and immovable as 
if they had suddenly been checked in mid career by a touch 
from the wand of some powerful enchanter. 

Here, in flexible chain-mail hood, shirt, and spurs, stand? 
the effigy of Edward I. (1272), the king in the act of draw- 
ing his sword ; and clad in this armor were the knights who 
were borne to the earth on the fields of Dunbar and Ban- 
nockbum. Next rides at full tilt, with lance in rest, and 
horse's head defended by spiked chanfron, and saddle decorat- 
ed with the king's badges, Edward IV., 1483 ; then we have 
the armor worn in the Wars of the Roses, and at Bosworth 
Field; here a suit worn by a swordsman in Henry VII.'s 
time, about 1487 ; next, a powerful charger, upon tbe full 
leap, bears the burly figure of Henry VIII., in a splendid 
suit of tilting armor, inlaid with gold: this suit is one 
which is known to have belonged to the tyrant; a sword is 
at the side of the figure, and the right hand grasps an iron 
mace. A splendid suit of armor is that of a knight of Ed- 
ward VI.'s time (1552), covered all over with beautiful 
arabesque work, inlaid with gold, and a specimen of work- 
manship which, it seemed to me, any of our most skilful 
jewellers of the present day might be proud of. 

Then we have the very suit of armor that was worn by 
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, which is profusely dec- 
orated with that oft-mentioned badge of the Dudleys, the 
Bear and Ragged Staff, that they appeared to be so fond of 
cutting, carving, stamping, and engraving upon everything 
of theirs, movable and immovable. His initials, R. D., are 
also engraved on the knee-guards. The mounted figure of 
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, 1581, in his splendid suit 
of gilt armor; effigy of Henry, Prince of Wales, riding, 
rapier in handj in the armor made for him in the year 1612 
— a splendid suit, engraved and adorned with representations 
of battle scenes ; the armor made for King Charles I. when . 
14 



210 CURIOUS WEAPONS. 

a youth ; James II., 1685, in his own armor. Besides these 
were numerous other figures, clad in suits of "various periods. 
One very curious was a suit wrought in Henry VIII.'s time, 
which was composed entirely of movable splints, and almost 
as flexible as an overcoat ; a figure clad in splendid plated 
armor, time of Henry VII., with ancient sword in hand, 
battle-axe at the saddle-bow, and the horse protected by 
armor in front — the whole figure a perfect realization of the 
poet's and artist's idea of a brave knight sheathed in gleam- 
ing steel. 

The curious old implements of war, from age to age, illus- 
trate the progress that was made in means for destroying human 
life; and the period of the invention of gunpowder is marked 
by the change which takes place in the character of the 
weapons. Here we were shown the English "bill," which 
the sturdy soldiers used with such effect when they got 
within striking distance of the enemy ; a ball armed with 
protruding iron spikes, and hitched by a chain to a long pole, 
and used flail-like, .denominated the "morning star," we 
should think would have created as much damage among 
friends as foes on the battk field; then there was a curious 
contrivance, called the catch-pole — a sort of iron fork, with 
springs, for pulling a man off his horse by the head : battle- 
axes, halberds, English pikes, partisans, cross-bows, with their 
iron bolts, long bows, a series of helmets from 1320 down to 
1685 — a very curious collection. Then we have the collec- 
tion of early fire-arms, petronel, match-lock, wheel-lock, and. 
among others, a veritable revolver pistol of Henry VIII.'s 
time — an ancient, rude-looking affair, and from which, we 
were told bj the guide, " Colonel Colt, of the American army," 
borrowed his idea. 

" So you see, sir, the i?anierican revolver is nothink new — 
/?only a hold JTenglish Aidea, Aarfter Aall." 

This prodigious broadside of h's was unanswerable. So 
wd said nothing, and shall look for the English model from 
which the American sewing-machine was invented. 

Of course, there is no one who will think of visiting the 



THE REGALIA OF ENGLAND. '211 

Towe; without seeing the regalia of England, which are 
kept here in their own especial stronghold, entitled the Jewel 
Tower. It is astonishing to see the awe and wonder with 
which some of the common people look upon these glittering 
emblems of royalty, which they seem to regard with a ven- 
eration little short of the sovereign. 

The royal crown is a cap of rich purple velvet, enclosed in 
hoops of silver, and surmounted by a ball and cross of splen- 
did diamonds. The Prince of Wales's crown is a simple 
pure gold crown, without jewels. The queen's diadem, as it 
is called, is an elegant -affair, rich in huge diamonds and 
pearls. This crown was made for the consort of James II. 
St. Edward's crown, shaped like the regular English crown, 
— with which we are all familiar, from seeing it represented 
in the arms of England, and upon British coin, — is of gold, 
and magnificent with diamonds, rubies, pearls, emeralds, and 
other precious stones. Here we also have sight of the other 
paraphernalia of royalty, which, to American visitors, looks 
somewhat theatrical and absurd, and continually suggest the 
thought of what empty pageants are the parade and mum- 
meries of kings and princes. Here is the royal sceptre, a 
rod formed of gold, and richly adorned with jewels, sur- 
mounted by a cross, which is- placed in the right hand of the 
sovereign at coronations; and the rod of equity, another 
sceptre, ornamented with diamonds, and surmounted with a 
dove with outstretched wings, which is placed in the left 
hand ; a queen's sceptre, richly ornamented with jewels ; the 
ivory sceptre of James II.'s queen ; and the elegantly- wrought 
golden one made for Mary, queen of William III.; swords of 
Justice and Mercy, coronation bracelets, spurs, anointing ves- 
sels, baptismal font, spoons, salt-cellars, dishes, and numerous 
other — ■ coronation tools, I must call them, reminding one, as 
they lay there spread out to view in their iron cage, of one 
of those displays of bridal presents at an American wedding, 
where the guest wonders at the ingenuity of the silversmith 
in producing so many articles for which, until he sees them, 
and is told what they are designed for, he could not imagine 
a use could be found. 



212 ST. PAUL'S. 

From the blaze of diamonds and precious stones, and the 
yellow glitter of beaten gold, we turned away to once more 
walk through the historic old fortress, and examine the rec- 
ord that is left behind of the part it has played of palace, 
fortress, and prison. 

The tourist gets but a confused idea of the Tower in one 
visit, hurried along as he is by the warder, who repeats his 
monotonous, set descriptions, with additions and emendations 
of his own, and if he be not "i' the vein," omitting, I fancy, 
some portion of the regular round, to save himself trouble, 
especially if an extra douceur has not been dropped into his 
itching jjalm. Then there are walks, passages, windows, and 
apartments, all celebrated in one way or another, which are 
passed by without notice, from the fact that a full description 
would occupy far too much time, but which, if you should 
happen to have an old Londoner, with a liking for antiquity, 
with you, to point them out, and have read up pretty well 
the history of the Tower, you find are material enhancing the 
pleasure of the visit. 

I suppose St. Paul's Church, in London, may be called the 
twin sight to the Tower ; and so we will visit that noted old 
monument of Sir Christopher Wren's architectural skill next. 
In looking at London en masse, from any point, — that is, as 
much of it as one can see at once, — the great dome of St. 
Paul's stands out a most prominent landmark, its huge globe 
rising to the height of three hundred and sixty feet. 

We used to read an imprint, in our young days, stamped 
upon a toy-book, containing wonderful colored pictures, 
which communicated the fact that it was sold by Blank & 
Blank, Stationers, St. Paul's Churchyard, London, and won- 
dered why bookstores were kept in burial-grounds in Lon- 
don. We found, on coming to London, that St. Paul's stood 
in the midst of a cemetery, and that the street or square 
around and facing it — probably once a part of the old cem 
etery — is called St. Paul's Churchyard ; a locality, we take 
occasion to mention, that is noted for its excellent shops for 
cheap dry goods and haberdashery, or such goods as ladies 



old st. paul's. 213 

m America buy at thread stores, and which can generally be 
bought here a trifle cheaper than at other localities in Lon- 
don. St. Paul's Churchyard is also noted for several excel 
lent lunch or refreshment rooms for ladies and gentlemen, 
similar, in some respects, to American confectionery shops, 
except that at these, which are designated " pastry-cooks," 
cakes, cold meats, tarts, sherry wine, and ale may be had ; 
and I can bear witness, from personal experience, that the 
qxiality of the refreshment, and the prices charged at the 
well-kept pastry-cooks' shops of St. Paul's Churchyard, are 
such as will satisfy the most exacting taste. 

The present St. Paul's, which was completed in 1710, can 
hardly be called Old St. Paul's. The first one built on this 
site was that in 610, by Ethelbert, King of Kent, which was 
burned, as was also its successor, which received large estates 
from the Conqueror. But the Old St. Paul's we read so 
much about in novel and story, was the great cathedral im- 
mediately preceding this one, which was six hundred and 
ninety feet long, one hundred and thirty broad, was built in 
the form of a cross, and sent a spire up five hundred and 
twenty feet into the air, and a tower two hundred and sixty 
feet ; which contained seventy-six chapels, and maintained 
two hundred priests ; from which the pomp and ceremony of 
the Romish church vanished before the advance of the Ref- 
ormation ; which was desecrated by the soldiery in civil war, 
and finally went down into a heap of smouldering ruins in 
1666, after an existence of two hundred and twenty years. 
That was the Old St. Paul's of ancient story, and of W. Har- 
rison Ains worth's interesting historical novel, which closes 
with an imaginative description of its final destruction by the 
great fire of London. 

Sir Christopher Wren, the architect, and grand old Free 
and Accepted Mason, built the present St. Paul's, laying the 
corner-stone in 1675, and the cap-stone in the lantern in 1710 
— a thirty-five years' piece of work by one architect, and 
most ahly and faithfully was it done. Appropriate, indeed, 
therefore, is the epitaph that is inscribed on the plain, broad 



21-J HISTOKIC STREETS. 

slab tL at marks his last resiing-place in the crypt on the spot 
where the high altar of the old cathedral once stood. Be- 
neath this slab, we are told, rests the builder ; but " if ye seek 
his monument, look around you." The corner-stone of St. 
Paul's was laid with masonic ceremonies, and the trowel and 
mallet used on the occasion are still preserved by the lodge 
whose members at that time officiated. 

It is impossible to get a complete general view of the whole 
of St. Paul's at once, it is so hemmed in here in the oldest 
and most crowded part of London. Here, all around us were 
streets whose very names had the ring of old English history. 
Watling Street, a narrow lane, but old as Anglo-Saxon times ; 
Newgate, where the old walls of London stood, is near at 
hand, and Cannon Street, which runs into St. Paul's church- 
yard, contains the old London Stone, once called the central 
point of the city, from which distances were measured ; Lud- 
gate Hill, little narrow Paternoster Row, Cheapside, and 
Old Bailey are close by, and a few steps will take you into 
Fleet Street, St. Martins le Grand, or Bow Lane. You feel 
that here, in whatever direction you turn, you are in old Lon- 
don indeed, near one of the solid, old, historical, and curious 
parts of it, that figure in the novels and histories, and with 
which you mentally shake hands as with an old acquaintance 
whom you have long known by correspondence, but now meet 
face to face for the first time. 

St. Paul's is built of what is called Portland stone ; original- 
ly, I should suppose, rather light colored, but now grimed 
with the universal blacking of London smoke. The best 
view of the exterior is from Ludgate Hill, a street ajjproach- 
ing its western front, from which a view of the steps leading 
to the grand entrance and the statues in front of it is ob- 
tained. 

One does not realize the huge proportions of this great 
church till he walks about it. Its entire length, from east to 
west, is five hundred feet ; the breadth at the great western 
entrance, above referred to, is one hundred and eighty feet, 
and at the transept two hundred and fifty feet. The entire 



IMMENSITY OF ST. PAULAS. 215 

eireumfeience of the church, as I was told by the loquacious 
guide who accompanied me, was two thousand two hundred 
and ninety-five feet, and it covers two acres of ground. These 
figures will afford the reader opportunity for comparison, and 
give some idea of its immensity. The height of the cross on 
the dome is three hundred and sixty feet from the street, and 
tLc diameter of the great dome itself is one hundred and 
eighty feet. 

There is ever so much that is curious and interesting tu 
see in St. Paul's, and, like many other celebrated places, the 
visitoi ascertains that it cannot be seen in the one, hurried, 
tourist visit that is generally given to them, especially if one 
wishes to give an intelligible description to friends, or convey 
his idea to those who have not had the opportunity of visit- 
ing it. For my own part, it was a second visit to these old 
churches I used most to enjoy, when, with local guide-book 
and pencil in hand, after perhaps refreshing memory by a 
peep the night before into English history, I took a two or 
three hours' quiet saunter among the aisles, the old crypts, or 
beneath the lofty, quiet old arches, or among the monuments, 
when I could have time to read the whole inscription, and 
pause, and think, and dream over the lives and career of 
those who slept beneath 

" The storied urn and animated bust." 

There are over fifty splendid monuments, chiefly to English 
naval and military heroes, in St. Paul's, many of them most 
elaborate, elegant, and costly groups of marble statuaiy ; but. 
I left those for the last, and set about seeing other sights 
within the old pile, and so first started for the Whispering 
(aalL : ry. This is reached by a flight of two hundred and 
sixty steps from the transept, and about half way up to it we 
were shown the library belonging to the church, containing 
many rare and curious works, among them the first book of 
Common Prayer ever printed, and a set of old monastic manu- 
scripts, said t^ have been preserved from the archives of the 
old St. Tctul's, when it was a Roman cathedral. The flooj 



216 THE AVHISPEKING GALLERY. 

of this library is pointed out as a curiosity, being composed of 
a mosaic of small pieces of oak wood. Next the visitor id 
shown the Geometrical Stairs, a flight of ninety steps, so in- 
geniously constructed that they all hang together without 
any visible means of support except the bottom step. 

Up we go, upward and onward, stopping to see the big ben, 
— eleven thousand four hundred and seventy-four pounds, — 
whicb is never tolled except for a death in the royal family. 
The hour indicated by the big clock is struck on it by a ham- 
mer moved by clock-work; but the big clapper used in tolling 
weighs one hundred and eighty pounds. The clock of St. 
Paul's seems a gigantic timepiece indeed, when you get up 
to it; its faces are fifty-seven feet in circumference, and the 
minute-hand a huge bar of steel, weighing seventy-five 
pounds, and nearly ten feet in length ; the hour or Utile hand 
is another bar of about six feet long, weighing forty-four 
pounds. The figures on the dial are two feet three inches 
long, and the big pendulum, that sets the machinery of this 
great time-keeper in motion, is sixteen feet long, with a weight 
of one hundred and eight j>ounds at the end of it. 

The Whispering Gallery is a gallery with a light orna- 
mental iron railing, running entirely round the inside of the 
base of the cupola, a distance of one hundred and forty yards ; 
and whispered conversation can be carried on with persons 
seated at the extreme opposite side of the space ; the clap- 
ping of the hands gives out almost as sharp a report as the dig 
charge of a rifle. This Whispering Gallery is a fine place to 
get a good view of the great paintings in the compartments 
of the dome, which represent leading events in the life of St. 
Paul. It was at the painting of these pictures that the oc- 
currence took place, so familiar as a story, where the artist, 
gradually retiring a few steps backward to mark the effect 
of his work, and having unconsciously reached the edge of 
the scaffolding, would, by another step, have been precipitated 
to the pavement, hundreds of feet below, when a friend, see- 
ing his peril, with great presence of mind, seized a brush and 
daubed some fresh paint upon the picture; the artist rushed 



, TJr INTO THE BALL. 217 

forward to prevent the act, and saved his life. From this 
gallery we locked far down below to the tessellated pavement 
of black and white, the centre beneath the dome forming a 
complete mariner's compass, showing the thirty-two points. 

Above this are two more galleries around the dome, — the 
Stone Gallery and Golden Gallery, — from which a fine view 
of London, its bridges and the Thames, can be had, if the daj 
be clear. Above we come to the great stone lantern, as it is 
called, which crowns the cathedral, and bears up its huge 
ball and cross. Through the floor, in the centre of this lan- 
tern, a hole about the size of a large dinner-plate is cut, and 
as 1 stood there and looked straight down to the floor, over 
three hundred feet below, I will confess to a slight feeling of 
contraction in the soles of the feet, and after a glance or two 
at the people below, dwarfed by distance, I hastily retired 
with the suspicion of, what if the plank flooring about that 
aperture should be weak ! 

Next comes an ascent into the ball. A series of huge iron 
bars uphold the ball and cross ; the spaces between them are 
open to the weather, but so narrow, that the climber, who 
makes his way by aid of steps notched into one of the bars, 
is he braces his body against the others, could not possibly 
get more than an arm out ; so the ascent of ten feet or so is 
unattended with danger, and we found ourselves standing 
within this great globe, which from the streets below appears 
about the size of a large foot-ball, but which is of sufficient 
capacity to contain ten men. It was a novel experience to 
stand in that huge metallic sphere, which was strengthened 
by great straps of iron almost as big as railroad rails, and 
hear the wind, which was blowing freshly at the time, sound 
like a steamship's paddle-wheels above our head. Thirty feet 
above the globe rises the cross, which is fifteen feet high, and 
which the guide affirmed he really believed American visitors 
would climb and sit astride of, if there were any way of get- 
ting at it. 

Having taken the reader to the highest accessible point 
wo will now descend to the lowest — the huge ^rypt, in 



218 DOWN INTO THE CRYPT. 

which rest the last mortal remains of England's greatest 
naval and greatest military heroes, — Nelson and Wellington, 
— heroes whose pictures you see from one end of the island 
to the other, in every conceivable style — their portraits; naval 
and battle scenes in which they figured, busts, monuments, 
statues, engravings, and bronzes. No picture gallery seems 
complete without the death scene of Nelson upon his ship in 
the hour of victory ; and one sees it so frequently, that he al- 
most yields to the belief that the subject is as favorite a ono 
with British artists, as certain scriptural ones used to be with 
the old Italian painters. 

The crypt contains the immense pillars, forty feet square, 
which support the floor above, and in that part of it directly 
beneath the dome is the splendid black marble sarcophagus 
of Lord Nelson, surmounted by the cushion and coronet. 
This sarcophagus was originally prepared by Cardinal Wolsey 
for his own interment at Windsor, but now covers the remains 
of the naval hero, and bears upon its side the simple inscrip- 
tion " Hoeatio, Viscount Nelson." In another portion of 
the crypt is the large porphyry sarcophagus of the Duke of 
Wellington, the enclosure about it lighted with gas from 
granite candelabra, while all about in other parts of the crypt, 
beneath the feet of the visitor, are memorial slabs, that tell 
him that the ashes of some of England's most noted painters 
and architects rest below. Here lies Sir Christopher Wren, 
who built St. Paul's, and who lived to the good old age of 
ninety-one. Here sleeps Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Thomas 
Lawrence, and Benjamin West, painters; here Robert Mylue, 
who built Blackfriars' Bridge, and John Rennie, who built 
Suiithwark and Waterloo Bridges, besides many others of 
more or less note. In another part of the crypt is preserved 
the great funeral car, with all its trappings and decorations, 
which was used upon the occasion of the funeral ceremonies 
of the Duke of Wellington, and which the guide shows with 
great einpressement, expecting an extra sixpence in addition 
to the three shillings and two pence you have already ex- 
pended for tickets to different parts of the building. 



MONUMENTAL GROUPS. 219 

The expenses of the whole sight are as follows : Whisper- 
ing and other two galleries, sixj)ence ; to the hall, one shilling 
and sixpence ; library, geometrical staircase, and clock, eight- 
pence; crypts, sixpence. Total, three shillings and two- 
pence. And now, having seen all else, we will take a saunter 
through the body of the church, and a glance at the monu> 
ments erected to the memory of those who have added to 
England's glory upon the sea and the field of battle. 

One of the first monumental marble groups that the visitor 
observes on entering is that of Sir William Ponsonby, whose 
horse fell under him in the battle of Waterloo, leaving him 
to the lances of the French cuirassiers. It represents Pon- 
sonby as a half-clad figure, slipping from his horse, that has 
fallen to its knees, and holding up his hand, as he dies, to 
receive a wreath from a rather stiff-looking marble angel, that 
has opportunely descended at that moment. 

The statue of Dr. Samuel Johnson, represented with a 
scroll in his hand, and in the attitude of deep thought, 
stands upon a pedestal bearing a long Latin inscription. 

The monument by Flaxman to Lord Nelson is quite an 
elaborate one. It represents him in his naval full dress, and 
a cloak falling from his shoulders, standing upon a pedestal, 
leaning upon an anchor and coil of rope. Upon the side of 
the pedestal are cut allegorical representations of the North 
Sea, the German Ocean, the Nile, and the Mediterranean, 
and the words Copenhagen — Nile — Trafalgar. At one 
side of the pedestal crouches a huge marble lion. At the 
other stands Britannia, with two young sailors, pointing out 
the hero to them for their imitation. 

The statue of John Howard, the philanthropist, represents 
him in Roman costume, trampling upon some fetters, a key 
in his right hand, and a scroll in his left. A bass-relief on 
the pedestal represents the benevolent man entering a prist »n, 
and bringing food and clothing to prisoners. A very beauti- 
ful inscription tells of his many virtues, his modesty and 
worth ; of his having received the thanks of both Houses of 
Uritish and Irish Parliaments for his services rendered to his 



220 England's v\ a.rrioks. 

country and mankind, and that his modesty alone defeated 
various efforts which were made during his life to erect this 
statue. 

There is a fine statue of Bishop Heber, who, half a century 
ago (May 15, 1819), wrote the beautiful missionary hyim 
"From Greenland's icy mountains," which has since thei 
been translated into foreign tongues at every missionary sta- 
tion, and sung all over the world. The statue, executed by 
Chantrey, represents the bishop kneeling, with his hand rest- 
ing upon the Holy Bible. 

There are two monuments that will attract the attention 
of Americans, from the fact of their being in memory of gen- 
erals who gained their laurels in military operations in this 
country. The first is that of General Robert Ross, who, in 
1814, "executed an enterprise against Washington, the cap- 
ital of the United States of America, with complete success/' 
Valor is represented as placing an American flag upon the 
general's tomb, over which Britannia is weeping, — maybe at 
the vandalism of the " enterprise." The other monument 
represents Generals Pakenham and Gibbs, in' full uniform, 
who, as the inscription informs us, " fell gloriously, on the 8th 
of January, 1815, while leading the troops to an attack of 
the enemy's works in front of New Orleans." 

Lord Collingwood, who was vice-admiral, and commanded 
the larboard division at the battle of Trafalgar, has a splen- 
did monument, upon which a man-of-war is represented 
bringing home his remains, attended by Fame and other alle- 
gorical figures. That eminent surgeon, Sir Astley Cooper, 
who died in 1842, has a fine monument, erected by his con- 
temporaries and pupils. 

A splendid marble group, representing a war-horse bound- 
ing over a fallen soldier, while his rider is falling from the 
saddle into the arms of a Highlander, is erected to the mem- 
ory of Sir Ralph Abercromby, who fell in Egypt in 1801. A 
marble figure of a sphinx reposes each side of the monu- 
ment. The statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds is by Flasman, 
and represents him clad in the robes of a doctor of law, with 



GOG iSD MAGO0. 221 

a volume in one hand, and the other resting upon a medallion 
of Michael Angelo. The inscription, in Latin, describes him 
as " prince of the painters of his age." 

Numerous other groups of statuary from the monuments 
of naval and military heroes represent them surrounded by 
allegorical figures of History, Fame, Valor, &c, and inscrip- 
tions set forth their deeds of bravery, and their services to 
the nation for whom they poured out their blood and yielded 
up their lives. 

Monuments to those whose names are well known in this 
country will also attract the attention of American visitors, 
such as that to Henry Hallam, the historian of the Middle 
Ages; Turner, the celebrated painter; Napier, the historian 
3f the peninular Avar; Sir Henry Lawrence, who died defend- 
ing Liuknow, in 1857; and Sir John Moore, who fell at 
Corunna, and was buried at midnight on the ramparts, as 
described in the well-known ode commencing, — 

" Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried." 

Thus it is in the sculptured marble you may in Westmin- 
ister Abbey, St. Paul's, and the old cathedrals of the country, 
read England's history again, and seem to approach nearer, 
and have a more realizing sense of her great men and their 
deeds, than from the pages of the printed volume. 

In the rush of sight-seeing we had nigh forgotten Guildhall, 
the home of Gog and Magog, and the City Hall of London, 
And, in truth, it is really not much of a sight to see, in coin 
paiison with the many others that claim the visitor's atten- 
tion; but we drifted down to the end of King Street one day, 
which carried us straight into the entrance of Guildhall, at 
tho 3nd of the street. The great entrance hall is quite im- 
posing, being about one hundred and fifty feet long, fifty 
wide, and fifty high, lighted with windows of painted glass, 
while at one end, in a sort of raised gallery, stand the big 
wooden figures of the city giants, Gog and Magog. Around 
this great hall are several monuments and groups; among 



222 THE GUILD HALLS. 

them, those to the Earl of Chatham, Wellington, and Nel 
son, and statues of Edward VI., Queen Elizabeth, and 
Charles I. The hall is used for elections, city meetings, and 
banquets — those noted feasts at which turtle soup is sup- 
posed to be so prominent a feature in the bill of fare. 

There are in London quite a number of the buildings or 
halls of the guilds or trade associations of old times — nearly 
fifty, I believe. Many of the trades have ceased to exist — 
their very names almost obsolete. For instance, the associa- 
tion of loriners, united girdlers, and the bowyers. The mem- 
bers of some of these old corporations or guilds are by no 
means all artisans, and about all they have to do is to man- 
age the charities and trust funds that have descended to 
them. They meet but once or twice a year, and then in the 
old hall, furbished up for the occasion. The very best of 
good eating and drinking is provided, and perhaps, on cer- 
tain anniversaries, the curious records and annals of the old 
society are produced, and, perchance, some old anniversary 
ceremony gone through with. 

Some of the societies have rare and curious relics, which 
are brought out on these occasions. For instance, the fish- 
mongers have the dagger with which Wat Tyler was stabbed 
by one of its members; the armorers and braziers some fine 
old silver work ; and the barber surgeons a fine, large picture, 
by Holbein, representing Henry VIII. presenting the charter 
to their company. In Goldsmiths' Hall we saw a splendid 
specimen of the goldsmiths' work, in the shape of a gold 
chandelier, weighing over one thousand ounces. This hall 
was rebuilt in 1834, although the goldsmiths owned the site 
in 1823. By an act of Parliament, all articles of gold or sil- 
ver must be assayed or stamped by this company before 
being sold. 

In Threadneedle Street, appropriately placed, we saw 
Merchant Tailors' Hall, built about 1667; and in the old 
hall of this company James I., and his son Prince Henry, 
once dined with the company, when verses composed espe- 
cially for the occasion by Ben Jonson were recited. Here, 



THE BANK Of ENGLAND. 22o 

in Threadneedle Street, is the Bank of England, sometimes 
called the " Old Lady of Threedneedle Street," which is also 
one of the sights of the metropolis, and covers a quadrangular 
space of nearly four acres. Armed with a letter of introduc- 
tion from one of the directors, or, more fortunate, in company 
with one of them, if you chance to enjoy the acquaintance of 
any of those worthies, you can make the tour of this wonder- 
ful establishment, finishing with the treasure vault, '.vherr? 
you have the tantalizing privilege of holding a million or two 
dollars' worth of English bank notes in your hand, and "heh> 
ino;" ino;ots of erold and bricks of silver. 

Then there are twenty-four directors to this bank, and about 
a thousand persons employed in it : clerks commence at the 
age of seventeen, receiving fifty pounds per annum for their 
service, and the salary of a chief of department is twelve 
hundred pounds. Some old, gray-headed men that we saw, 
who had grown round-shouldered over their ledgers, we were 
informed had been in the employ of the bank for over forty 
years. The operation of collecting the specie for a bank note, 
which I tested, is one requiring considerable red tape and 
circumlocution. You go from clerk to clerk, registering your 
address and date of presentation of notes and their number, 
till finally you reach the individual who is weighing and 
shovelling out sovereigns, who passes out the specie for the 
paper. These notes, after being once presented, are never re- 
issued, but kept on hand, first having the signatures torn off, 
for seven years, and then burned. We visited the storehouse 
of these "relics of departed worth," in the bank, where 
millions of tatterdemalions were heaped up, awaiting their 
fiery doom. 

That royal gift of Cardinal Wolsey to Henry VIII — 
Hampton Court Palace — is not only noted for its associa- 
tions of bluff King Hal and the ambitious cardinal, but as 
being the residence of several of the most celebrated of the 
British sovereigns. The estate went into the clutches of 
Henry in 1 526. It is about twelve miles from Hyde Park, in 
London, an 1 the palace cover? about eight acres of ground. 



224 HAMPTON COUKT PALACE. 

It was here that Edward VI. was born, and his mother, 
Jane Seymour, died a few days after; and it was here that 
Catharine Howard first appeared as Henry VIII.'s queen, 
in 1540 ; and in this palace the licentious brute married his 
sixth wife, Catherine Parr ; here Edward VI. lived a portion 
of his short reign, Queen Mary spent her honeymoon, and 
Queen Elizabeth visited. Charles II. was here during the 
plague in London ; and Oliver Cromwell saw one daughter 
married and another die beneath its roof; Charles II. and 
James II., William III. and George II., have all lived and 
held court in this famous old place, which figures so frequently 
in the pages of English history; and so short a distance is it 
from London, and so cheap are the excursion trains, that, on 
a pleasant day a mechanic, his wife, and child may go out, 
visit the magnificent old palace, all its rooms, see all its 
paintings, its superb acres of lawn, forests,-. garden, fountains, 
court-yards, and walks for two shillings (the railroad fare to go 
and return for the three). All at Hampton Court is open free 
to the public ; they may even walk, run, and roll over on the 
grass, if they like, if not rude or misbehaved. Many spend a 
whole holiday in the palace and its delightful grounds, and on 
the pleasant Sunday afternoon I visited them, there were, at 
least, ten thousand persons present; yet,so vast is the estate, 
that, with the exception of the passage through the different 
rooms, which are noted as picture galleries, there was no feel- 
ing as of a crowd of visitors. 

The guides, who went through the different apartments, 
explaining their history, and pointing out the celebrated and 
beautiful paintings, asked for no fee or reward, although 
many a visitor drops a few pence into their not unwilling 
hands. 

Entering the palace, we went by way of the King's Grand 
Staircase, as it is called, the walls and ceilings covered with 
elegant allegorical frescoes, and representations of heathen 
deities — Pan, Ceres, Jupiter, Juno ; Time surrounded by the 
signs of the zodiac, and Cupids with flowers ; Fame blowing 
her trumpet, and Peace bearing the palm branch ; Bacch us 



ELEGANT PAINTINGS. 225 

with his grapes, and Diana seated upon the half moon ; 
Hercules with his lion skin and club, and Ganymede, on the 
eagle, presenting the cup to Jove. From this grand entrance, 
with necks aching from the upward gaze, we came to the 
Guard-room, a spacious hall, some sixty feet in length, with 
muskets, halberds, spears, and daggers disposed upon the 
walls, forming various fmtastic figures. 

From thence the visitor passes into the first of the series 
of state apartments, which is entitled the King's Presence 
Chamber, and, after looking up at the old chandelier, made 
in the reign of Queen Anne, suspended from the ceiling, the 
guide begins to point out and mention a few of the leading 
pictures in each room. As there are eighteen or twenty of 
these rooms, and over a thousand pictures suspended upon 
the walls, to say nothing of the florid and elaborate decora- 
tions of the ceilings by Verio, the number is far too great to 
be inspected satisfactorily at a single visit ; and upon many 
scarce more than a passing glance can be bestowed as you 
pass along with the group of sight-seers. I jotted in my note- 
book several of those before which I halted longest, such 
as Charles I. by Vandyke, Ignatius Loyola by Titian, and 
the portraits of beauties of Charles II.'s gay court, which 
are one of the great attractions of the collection. These 
portraits were painted by Sir Peter Lely, and some of them 
very beautifully executed : here are the Princess Mary, as Di- 
ana ; Anne Hyde, Duchess of York ; the Duchess of Rich- 
mond, whom Charles wanted to marry, and, if she looked 
like her portrait, we applaud his taste in female beauty ; the 
sprightly, laughing face of Nell Gwynne ; Lady Middleton, 
another beauty, but a frail one ; and the Countess of Ossory, 
a virtuous one amid the vice and licentiousness of the " merry 
monarch's " reign. 

In the Queen's Gallery, which is about one hundred and 
beventy-five feet in length, there is a very interesting collec- 
tion; and here the guide had some indulgence, and allowed us 
to tarry a little. Great tapestry hangings, with scenes from 
the life of Alexander the Great, beautifully executed, were 
15 



226 RACE THROUGH .ART GALLERIES. 

suspended on the walls ; here hung Raphael's portrait, painted 
by himself; here Henry VII.'s Children, by Mabeuse ; and 
here old Holbein (to whose brush we owe all the pictorial 
representations we have of Henry VIII.) especially flourishes 
for his j)ortraits of Henry when young, of Erasmus, Will 
Somers, the king's jester, Francis I. of France, and others 
that I do not remember, hang here ; there is a beautiful St. 
Catherine, by Correggio; a Jewish Rabbi, by Rembrandt; 
Boar's Head, by Snyders ; Fruit, by Cuyp ; a Boy and Fruit, 
by Marillo ; besides scores of others by great artists. What 
a collection to be allowed thirty-five minutes to look at ! It 
was little less than an aggravation. 

Next came the Queen's Drawing-room, which contains 
many pictures from the pencil of Benjamin West; among 
them, that with which every one of us, who has studied an 
American geography or child's book of history, is so famil- 
iar — the death of General Wolfe at the storming of Quebec. 
From out the windows of this room is another of those 
superb English landscaj>e views of which I have so often 
spoken, that we get from the castles and palaces of the coun- 
try. A magnificent avenue of lime trees, nearly a mile in 
length, stretches out to view, and an artificial river, or canal, 
of the same length, shines between the greensward of the 
park, while an old English church tower, at the extreme back- 
ground, fills out the charming picture of nature. 

In the Queen's Audience Chamber we have old Holbein's 
works again. The curious old pictures from his brush here 
ai e, Henry VIII. embarking at Dover ; the Battle of Spurs ; 
Meeting of Henry VIII. and the Emperor Maximilian, and 
Meeting of Henry VIII. and Francis I. on the Field of the 
Cloth of Gold. This last picture has a story, which is to the 
effect that in Cromwell's time the Parliament proposed to 
sell it to the King of France. The Earl of Pembroke, how- 
ever, determined that such a treasure of art and historical 
memento should not leave England, and thereupon carefully 
and secretly cut off the head of Henry the Eighth from the 
canvas, so that the French king's agent, discovering the mul.i 



PICTORIAL SURFEIT. 22"? 

lation, refused to take the painting. When Charles the Second 
came to the throne, after the Restoration, Pembroke returned 
the head, which had been carefully preserved, and it was very 
skilfully replaced; so skilfully, that it was only by getting a 
view by a side light that we could discover that it had been 
disturbed. 

In the Private Dining-room, as it is called, are shown 
three of the great couches of royalty, the state beds of Wil- 
liam III. and his Queen Mary, and that of George II., and but 
few pictures of note; so we go on through other "halls," 
"writing closets," "audience chambers," &c, till we reach a 
fine, lofty gallery, built by Sir Christopher Wren ; here we 
have more portraits by Holbein, one by Abert Durer, one of 
Queen Elizabeth, in her vast and enormously built up and 
gaudy costume, Landscape by Rubens, Battle Piece by Wou- 
vermans, Inside a Fami House by Teniers, and some two or 
three hundred others. 

After this pictorial surfeit we passed into the magnificent 
great Gothic Hall, designed by Wolsey, and finished by 
Henry VIII., when Anne Boleyn was queen. This hall is 
pure Gothic, one hundred and six feet long, forty wide, and 
sixty high, the roof very elaborately carved oak, decorated, 
with great taste and splendor, with arms and badges of King 
Henry. It is somewhat singular that at this very place, 
which was the scene of Wolsey's magnificence and Henry's 
iordly sj)lendor, there should have been acted, by King George 
I.'s command, in 1718, Shakespeare's play of "Henry VIII., 
or the Fall of Wolsey." The walls of this hall are hung with 
splendid arras tapestry, representing the history of Abraham; 
around the hall hung portraits of Henry VIII., Wolsey, 
Jane Seymour, and Queen Elizabeth; and at intervals are 
doers' heads, carved from wood, above which are banners and 
trophies. The notable feature of the hall, however, is its 
stained-class windows, thirteen in number, besides the great 
one and the beautiful oriel window, splendid in its pro- 
portions, fine Gothic canopy, and rich in beautiful colored 
glass, bearing armorial devices of the King and Jane Seymour 



228 THE GARDENS AND THE PEOPLE. 

The Great Window is divided off into fourteen compartments, 
one of which has a half-length portrait of King Henry, and the 
others are filled with armorial crests and devices. Six of the 
other windows bear the armorial pedigrees of the six wives of 
the king, and the others various heraldic designs. The archi- 
tecture and decorations of this noble hall are very well man 
aged, and the subdued and colored light, falling upon the rich 
caning and Gothic tracery, produces an imposing and strik- 
ingly beautiful effect. 

After an inside view of the palace and its picture-galleries, 
the stroll through the great park is none the less delightful. 
This park, or rather the gardens, as they are called, are ele- 
gantly laid out with beds of brilliant-colored flowers, broad 
gravel walks, beautiful closely-clipped lawns, and groups of 
splendid oaks and elms; and, although the grounds are al- 
most a dead level, with but little inequality, still they are so 
beautifully arranged as eo present a charming and romantic 
appearance. Here crowds of people walked beneath the 
great trees in the broad shaded avenues, sat on the velvety 
turf at the foot of great oaks, or paused and admired the huge 
plats of flowers, of brilliant hues and delicious fragrance, ar- 
ranged by the gardener's skill in beautiful combinations, or 
strolled into the conservatory to see the orange trees, or into 
the vinery to see that celebrated grape vine, which is said to 
be the largest in Europe ; and a royal monster it is, indeed, 
stretching out its arms over one hundred and thirty feet, and 
having a stem that, at three feet from the ground, measures 
over thirty inches in circumference. It was planted in 1^68. 
Its fruit is the richest black Hamburg variety, and from two 
thousand to tAvo thousand five hundred bunches of the lus- 
cious spheroids are its annual yield. Not among the least of 
the attractions of the gardens is a maze, skilfully constructed 
of hedges about seven feet in height, and the walks to the 
centre, or from the centre to the outside, so skilfully contrived 
■n labyrinthine passages of puzzling intricacy as to render it a 
matter of no ordinary difficulty to extricate one's self. A 
guide, however, stands upon an elevated platform outside, and 



WINDSOR CASTLE. 229 

assists those by his instructions who are unable to do so, and 
give up the trial. The shouts of laughter of those who were 
entangled in the deceitful avenues toll of theii enjoyment oi 
the ingenious puzzle. 

Near the maze is one of the large gates of the palace gar- 
dens, opening exactly opposite to Bushy Park ; and here we 
passed out into a great avenue, a mile in length, of horse- 
chestnut trees, the air redolent with their red and white blos- 
soms. In this park the parties who come from London to 
visit Hampton Court picnic, as no eatables or picknicking is 
permitted in the gardens of the latter. Hawkers and ped- 
lers of eatables and drinkables, of all kinds and at all prices, 
were in every direction ; groups under the trees were chat- 
ting, lunching, and lounging, and enjoying themselves. 

The finest residence of English royalty, at the present time, 
is Windsor Castle ; and a pleasant railway ride of twenty 
miles or so from London brought us in sight of the splendid 
great Round Tower, which is so notable a feature of the place. 
It crowns the apex of a hill, and is a conspicuous landmark. 
Edward III. was born here; Cromwell and Charles II. have 
lived here ; and a statue of the latter is conspicuous in the 
great quadrangle of the castle, which you enter after mount- 
ing the hill. The towers around the walls bear such names 
as Edward III. Tower, Lancaster Tower, Brunswick Tower, 
Victoria Tower, &c. ; but the noblest of all is the great Keep, 
or Round Tower, which rises to the height of one hundred 
and twenty-five feet above the pavement of the quadrangle ; 
and up to the summit of this I toiled, to be repaid by the 
charming English landscape view spread out on every side. 
Twelve counties were within the range of vision ; the square 
turrets of old English churches, arched-stone bridges, the 
beautiful park and grounds beneath, with cricketers at play, 
and the beautiful sheet of water ("Virginia water"), like a 
looking-glass beneath the sun, and the Thames winding away 
in the distance like a silver ribbon on the green landscape, 
which was dotted with villages, elegant country seats and 
castle-like dwellings of the aristocracy, formed a picture that 
it was a luxuiy to look upon. 



230 THE STATE APARTMENTS. 

Visitors are conducted through the state apartments, whicL 
contain many fine pictures, some magnificent tapestry, and 
which, of course, are furnished in regal style. The Gobelin 
tapestry, and a magnificent malachite vase, — the latter a gift 
to the queen from Nicholas, Emperor of Russia, — were in the 
Presence Chamber. The Waterloo Chamber contained many 
fine portraits of Waterloo heroes by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
and the Vandyke Room was hung only with pictures painted 
by that artist. 

It will be recollected that Edward III. instituted the Order 
of the Garter at Windsor, in 1349, and in St. George's Hall, 
or the State Dining-room, as it is called, is where the queen 
confers the order. At the upper end of this hall, which is two 
hundred feet in length, is» the throne upon its raised dais. 
Upon one side of the apartment are hung the portraits of 
England's sovereigns, while upon the other are the coats of 
arms of the original Knights of the Garter, elegantly em- 
blazoned with their names and titles, and those of their suc- 
cessors. The ceiling is also elegantly ornamented. The most 
attractive apartment is the long gallery, about fifteen feet wide 
and four hundred and fifty long, which is rich in bronzes, busts, 
and pictures, although we looked with some interest at a 
shattered section of the mast of Lord Nelson's flag-ship, the 
Victory, which bears the mark of the enemy's cannon-shot, 
and is surmounted by a bust of Nelson, in a room called, the 
Guard Chamber; and in the same room is a shield, inlaid with 
gold and silver-work, presented by Francis I. to Henry VIII. 
at their celebrated meeting on the Field of the Cloth of Gold. 

Next after the state apartments St. George's Chapel en- 
gaged our attention. This chapel was begun by Edward IV., 
in 1461, and not completed till early in the sixteenth century. 
The architectural beauty of the interior is indesciibable. 
The richly-ornamented roof and the great east window are 
most exqiiisitely done, and it is a wonder that tourists, au- 
thors, and the guide-books do not say more than they do 
about it. Knights of the Garter are installed here. Their 
banners and escutcheons hang above their carved oakon stalls. 



WINDSOR PARKS. 231 

A wrought steel screen, by that cunning artificer in iron, 
Quintin Matsys, stands above the last resting-place of Edward 
IV. Here, below the marble pavement, rests the gigantic 
frame of Henry VIII. ; here slumber Charles I. and Henry 
VI., George III., IV., and William IV. The monument to 
the Princess Charlotte is a magnificent group, representing 
her upon a couch as if just expired, and a sheet thrown over 
the body, while her maids by its side, with mantles thrown 
over their heads, are bowed down with grief. Above, the 
spfrit is represented as an angel soaring towards heaven — a 
figure exquisitely cut, and so gracefully poised that the spec- 
tator half expects to see it rise, float away into the air, and 
soar out of sight. The effect is much heightened by the ad- 
mirable manner in which it has been managed to have the 
light fall upon this beautiful sculpture. 

There is a home park to Windsor Castle ; and how large, 
think you, American reader, is this home park for British roy- 
alty? Why, only five hundred acres! This is connected 
with Windsor Great Park by the Long Walk, a splendid 
avenue lined with elms, which avenue is continued on for 
three miles. The Great Park has one thousand eight hun- 
dred acres within its area. Here was Windsor Forest, 
Heme's Oak, where Heme the Hunter was said to dash forth 
upon his steed, and where old Falstaff, — 

" A Windsor stag, and the fattest, I think, i' the forest," - 

made his assignation with the merry wives of Windsor. 
Old Windsor itself is some little distance away, nestled down 
on the banks of the River Thames ; and though we saw some 
ancient houses and an inn or two, there were none that, in our 
brief sojourn, we could conjure by imagination into such a 
one as fat Jack and his friends, Bardolph and Pistol, swilled 
Back in, nor anything that looked like the Garter Inn, or Mis- 
tress Quickly. One inn rejoices in the name of Star and 
Garter, but the briskness and modern style of it savored not 
of Jack FalstafFs time. 

We closed our visit to Windsor with an inspection of the 



'232 ROYAL STABLES. 

royal stables, or Queen's Mews, as they call them here. 
These stables were very well arranged and kept, and contain 
nearly a himdred horses when all are in. Many were away 
with the family, who were absent at the time of our visit; 
but there were the horses for park drives, the horses for road 
diives, &c, while there were also a dozen or more very hand- 
some barouches, pony and basket carriages, and seven hand- 
some carriages for the queen and suite to go to and from rail- 
way stations, Clarences, and various other vehicles, among 
them a large open-sided affair, with a white tent-like roof, a 
present from Louis Philippe. Considering that this is only 
one of the Queen's Mews, it seemed as if this part of her 
." establishment " was regal indeed. After patting the fat old 
white pony, which her majesty always uses in her morning 
drives in the park when at Windsor, we presented our cice- 
fone with an English shilling, which, notwithstanding he wore 
the queen's livery, he did not scorn to receive, and, taking a 
glance at the interior of the Riding School, which is a hand- 
somely-arranged room about two hundred feet long, where 
scions of royalty may be taught to 

" Witch the world with noble horsemanship," 

we bade adieu to Windsor. 

If there is any one thing aggravating to the American 
tourist, on his first trip to England, it is the supreme indif 
ference of the English press to American affairs. Accus- 
tomed to the liberal enterprise of the press of his own country, 
which, with a prodigality of expenditure, stops at nothing 
when news is to be had, and which every morning actually 
gives him news from all parts of the world, in addition to 
copious extracts from foreign and domestic papers, he is 
struck with astonishment at the comparative lack of enter- 
prise shown by the London papers. 

The London Times, which for the past half century it has 
been the custom for American papers to gratuitously advertise 
in paragraphs about its wonderful system and enterprise, can 
no more compare with the New York Tribune and New 



LONDON NEWSPAPERS. 233 

Fork Herald in lateness of news, amount of news by tele 
graph, and correspondence, than a stage coach with a loco 
motive. 

Marked features in the Times are the finished style of its 
editorials and correspondence, and its parliamentary reports, 
although the latter, I hardly think, are much better made up 
than the American Congressional reports in our own papers. 
But where the inferiority of the English, and the superiority 
of the American papers is most conspicuous, is ir the matter 
of telegraphic despatches, the American papers using the 
telegraph without stint, and the English very sparingly. 
The New York Tribune will generally give its readers, every 
morning, from five to eight times as much by home lines of 
wire as the London Times. To be sure we have a much 
larger extent of territory, at home, that the wires go over ; 
but then the American papers generally give more telegraphio 
news from the continent of Europe even, than the London 
papers. 

The American, on his first visit to England, calls for the 
Times at his breakfast table, and if he is lucky enough to get 
one, turns eagerly to the telegraphic column to see what may 
be the latest news from America. He finds a despatch of 
from six to twelve lines, in which the quotations of the price 
of United States stocks, New York Central, Erie, Illinois Cen- 
tral, and some other railroad shares, are given, and, perhaps, 
a line or two saying that Honorable Thaddeus Stevens, mem- 
ber of Congress, died this morning, or the president has 
appointed George S. Boutwell secretary of the treasury de- 
partment. A hundred other matters, which affect British 
and American commerce, are not reported; intelligence in- 
teresting to Americans, or any one who has ever been to 
America, is not alluded to ; extracts from American papers 
seldom given, and, when given, only such as will give a preju- 
diced impression. Accounts of the commercial, agricultural, 
and material progress of the country seem to be carefully 
and jealously excluded from their columns, and after a month's 
reading of English newspapers, your wonder that, the Eng 



234 AMERICAN VS. BRITISH ENTERPRISE. 

lish people are so ignorant of America will give place to as- 
tonishment that they should have any correct impression of 
it whatever. 

Take, for example, the well-known speech of Senaior 
Sumner upon the Alabama claims, which, clay after day, the 
papers of London thundered, roared, and howled over, wrote 
against and commented on, and not one of them printed in 
its columns until an American publishing house, in London, 
in answer to the call for it, issued it in a pamphlet. Every 
American knows that had a speech of equal importance, re- 
lating to this country, been made in England, it would have 
been telegraphed to and have appeared in our journals, entire, 
within twenty-four hours after it had been made. Then, 
again, the enterprise of our own press is shown in its giving 
extracts, pro and con, of the opinions of the British press, so 
that the American reader feels that he is " posted," and may 
judge for himself; whereas, in the English papers, he gets 
only one side of the question, and a meagre allowance at 
that. 

Murders, railroad accidents, steamboat explosions, riots, and 
suicides are the favorite extracts from the American press 
made by the London papers. The progress of groat rail- 
roads, increase of great cities in size, and the progress of this 
country in industry, science, art, and manufactures, are only 
occasionally alluded to. 

My national pride being touched at these omissions, I in- 
quired the reason of them of a good-natured Englishman of 
my acquaintance one day. 

"Well, the fact is, yah see, we don't care much about 
A.mericar h'yar, yah know — yah know — 'cept when there's 
some deuced roAV, yah know, and then the Times tells us all 
about it, yah know." 

And it is even so; the national pride is so intense, that 
the Englishman, as a general thing, seems to care very little 
for anything that is not English; his estimate of anything as 
good or bad is based upon its approach to or retreat from the 
British standard of excellence ; his national vanity leads him 



THE TIMES. '235 

to care very little about the progress or decline of any other 
country, so long as it does not immediately affect his own 
" tight little island." Many have, apparently, pictured in theii 
minds a map of the world like that of the Chinese topogra- 
pher, which gave their own country four fifths of the space, 
carefully drawn, leaving the remainder a blank, as occupied by 
outside barbarians. 

" But why," asked I of my good-natured friend, " does the 
Times give two columns of bets and horse-race matter, and 
only a dozen lines about the great Pacific Railroad ? " 

" Yaas, ah! the Darby, yah know, — British national sport 
— every Englishman knows about the Darby — couldn't make 
up a book without the Times, yah know. The Darby's right 
h'yar, and yah Pacific railway's three thousand miles off, yah 
know." 

It is to be acknowledged there was a certain degree of force 
in this reasoning, but our American newspaper readers, who, 
from appearances, number as five to one compared with Eng- 
lishmen, have been educated up to such a point of news-get- 
ting, that such an argument would fail to satisfy them. To 
hear some Englishmen talk, you would think the Times had 
been their swaddling-clothes in infancy, was their book of 
laws in manhood, and would be their winding-sheet at death. 

And yet the Times, despite its great influence, is far ex- 
ceeded in circulation by other papers in London — the .Lon- 
don Telegraph, for instance, which, to an American, will seem 
in its general characteristics and enterprise the most like an 
American paper. It takes more pains to make itself a sheet 
for popular reading. Its editorials are not so heavy, either in 
subject or matter, as the Times, but more off-hand and easier 
digested. It seems to be the paper of the middling classes. 
In nearly every railroad station I stopped at in England a 
handsomely-painted sign-board, sometimes three and some- 
times six feet square, informed me that the London Telegraph 
had the largest circulation in the world; and immediately un- 
der it we were informed, upon another sign of the same size^ 
but another color, that the Evening Standard was the largest 



1'66 NEWSI'APEE READERS. 

paper in the world. Besides these announcements on signs, 
we found theni on posters of the same size all over London, 
wherever bills were posted, and also posted in other English 
cities — a style of advertising rather expensive, but hardly so 
efficacious as the columns of the newspaper. 

One is struck by the difference between the American and 
English as a newspaper-reading people. In America, news- 
paj)ers are seen everywhere ; boys hawk them at every corner; 
they are sold at news-stands in the entrance hall of every 
hotel; newsmen pass through the cars with armfuls, at inter- 
vals, on every railroad line ; half a dozen are taken in every 
hair-dresser's shop for the use of customers ; and the great 
hotels have a reading-room with files from all the leading 
cities, so that a daily newspaper may be had in America, and 
is at hand at any and all times when the reader may wish 
it ; but here in London I found it comjaaratively a matter of 
difficulty always to obtain a daily paper. The hotel where I 
lodged, which had some thirty or forty guests, " took in " one 
London Daily Times, a Manchester paper, and one other 
weekly. Of course the first person who got the Times never 
resigned it until he had read it through, and exhausted the 
patience of anybody else who undertook to wait for it. There 
was no news-stand near, nor in the hote* — " the porter could 
horder me a Times of the newsman, reg'lar, when he came 
round, if I wished it, as would be ready at breakfast." 

Some of my English friends smiled, almost incredulously, 
at my assertion that our American business men very gen- 
erally subscribed for from three to five daily papers, besides 
weeklies, and wondered "why they wanted to read the news 
over so many times," and were also astonished to know that 
American coachmen read newspapers while waiting for a 
fare, a porter while waiting for a job, or a handcart-man at 
his cart-standj that they were always a prime necessity to 
passengers in cars and omnibuses, and were studied, conned, 
and perused at almost every interval of business, and oc- 
cupied no small portion of the leisure hours of all classes of 
Ameiican citizens. The railroad stations in London are pro 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 287 

9 

vided with good news-stands, where the traveller may always 
obtain the daily and weekly papers, and also a good supply 
of excellent light literature. My foreign experience, thus far, 
however, has strengthened my conviction that America is 
the land of newspapers. 

Trying to give the British Museum a thorough examina- 
tion is somewhat of a formidable undertaking; for it requires 
several visits to get even a superficial view of its valuable 
contents. The space of seven acres of ground is occupied 
by the buildings, which cost over a million pounds sterling, 
while the curiosities, relics, antiquities, and library cannot be 
estimated in a money value. As an indication, however, of 
the value, I may enumerate some of its purchases of collec- 
tions, &c. : the Charles Townley collection of Roman sculp- 
ture, purchased by government in 1805 for twenty thousand 
pounds, including Discobolus, noble busts of Homer, Pericles, 
Sophocles, &c. ; the Elgin Marbles, purchased of Lord Elgin 
for thirty-five thousand pounds; the Phygalian Marbles, 
which cost nineteen thousand pounds ; Portland Vase, eigh- 
teen hundred guineas ; prints, in the collection of prints and 
engravings, costing from two hundred to five hundred guineas 
each. The enormous library has swallowed up vast private 
collections, besides the valuable ones that have been given to 
it, among them that of Sir Thomas Grenville, which cost 
fifty-four thousand pounds ; George III.'s library, which was 
given to the government, and cost one hundred and thirty 
thousand jDounds — an exceedingly rich and rare collection ; 
the valuable collection of manuscripts — the Cottonian Har- 
leian, cost ten thousand pounds ; Lansdowne, five thousand 
pounds; Burney, thirteen thousand pounds, &c. There are 
only a few of the prices of leading collections that I imd set 
down in the different hand-books of the museum ; but, as is 
well known, there are other articles of antiquity, historical 
relics, bibliographical curiosities, &c, for which perfectly fab- 
ulous prices have been paid, especially for any well-nuthenti- 
eated relics or manuscripts relating to the early history of 
the country. Sometimes articles oi this description find their 



238 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL CURIOSITIES. 

I 

svay into . a public auction sale, and there is a struggle be- 
tween some wealthy virtuoso and the museum agent for its 
possession. But he must be a bold buyer, with a deep purse, 
to contend successfully against the British Museum, when it 
is decided that any article offered for sale ought to be added 
to its collection. The museum is divided into eleven different 
departments, viz.: printed books and manuscripts, Oriental 
antiquities, Greek and Roman antiquities, British mediaeval 
antiquities, coins and medals, botany, prints and drawings, 
zoology, pake ontology, and mineralogy. 

The library is that portion of the museum most read about 
by strangers, and the least seen by visitors, as they are only 
admitted into a very tew of the rooms in which this enor- 
mous collection is contained. There are now seven hundred 
thousand volumes, and the number increases at the rate of 
about twenty thousand a year ; and among some of the curi- 
osities and literary treasures in this department, I will men- 
tion a few, which will give a faint indication of its incalculable 
value. There are seventeen hundred different editions of the 
Bible, some very rare and curious ; an Arabic edition of the 
Koran, written in gold, eight hundred and sixty years ago ; 
a collection of block books, printed from carved blocks of 
wood on one side of the leaf only, which was a style of book 
making immediately preceding the art of printing. 

We were shown specimens of the earliest productions of 
the printing press, some of which, for clearness and beauty 
of execution, are most remarkable. The Mazarine Bible, 
1455, is very fine. Then we saw a copy of Cicero, printed 
by Fust and Scheeffer, in 1465. The first edition of the first 
Latin classic printed, and one of the two books in which 
Greek type was used; — the press work of this was excellent. 
A Psalter, in Latin, in 1457, by Fust and Scheeffer, on vellum, 
and the first book printed in colors, the typography clear, and 
beautifully executed. The first edition of Reynard the Fox, 
printed 1479. A splendid copy of Livy, printed on vellum, 
in 1469, for Pope Alexander VI., and the only copy on vellum 
known to exist ; — this volume cost nine hundred pounds in 



TYPOGRAPHICAL WONDERS. 239 

1815. The first edition of the first book printed in Greek 
characters, being a Greek Grammar, printed in Milan, in 1475. 
The first book in which catch-words were used. The first 
book in which the attempt was made to produce cheap books 
by compressing the matter, and reducing the size of the page, 
was a little copy of Virgil, issued in Venice in 1501 ; and the 
present price would be far from cheap. The first book 
printed in France, the first in Vienna, &o. " The Game and 
Playe of Chess," printed by Caxton, in Westminster Abbey, 
in 1474, and which was the first edition of the first book 
printed in England. Then there was the first edition of old 
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, printed in 1476, by Caxton, 
Cauntyrburye was the way they spelled it in his time. 
iEsop's Fables, with curious old wood-cuts, printed by Cax 
ton, in 1484. The first printed document relative to Amer- 
ica, Columbus's letter, written eight months after his dis- 
covery, and printed in Rome in 1493. The first edition of 
Paradise Lost, and of Robinson CrusGe. And our eyes 
were made to ache by trying to read a " microscopic " edition 
of Horace, printed in the smallest type ever ]Droduced, and 
undecipherable except with a magnifying glass. 

Besides these, and hundreds of other old books, enough to 
drive a bibliomaniac out of his remaining senses, were speci- 
mens of fine and sumptuous jointing, some of which, in the 
fifteenth century, on vellum, were a little short of marvel- 
loxi i in execution, and unsurpassed by anything I ever saw in 
modern printing. An allegorical poem, in German, printed 
on the occasion of the marriage of Maximilian I., at Nurem- 
berg, in 1517, was a perfect wonder of typographic art and 
beauty, and challenges the attention of every one, more espe- 
cially those versed in typography, as a marvel of the art. I 
have not space for enumeration of any of the wondrous 
specimens of beautiful illuminated works, printed on vellum 
and parchment, in colors undimmed by hundreds of years, 
and which the printer of to-day labors in vain to surpass. 
The purple and gold, the rich crimson and emerald green, 
that absolutely flash out on the pages of those exquisite vol- 



210 THE GREAT READING ROOM. 

umes known as Books of Hours, printed in J 488, 1 193, and 
thereabouts, are the most prodigal luxury of the art I ever 
laid my eyes upon ; and the patience, labor, time, and care 
required to bring out lines, spaces, and letters to such perfec- 
tion must have been very great, to say nothing of the quality 
of ink that has held its brilliancy for more than three cen- 
turies and a half. 

Next we have books tracing the rise and progress of illus- 
tration, and then a collection of books with autographs. In 
these last are some autographs worth having, as, for instance, 
the autograph of Martin Luther, in the first volume of a copy 
of the German Bible, which Bible was afterwards in the pos- 
session of Melanchthon, who wrote a long note on the fly-leaf 
of the second volume, signing it with his autograph ; an au- 
tograph of Charles I. in a volume of almanacs for the year 
1624; an autograph of Milton on a copy of Aratus's Phaenoni- 
ena ; that of Lord Bacon on a copy of Fulgentius ; autograph 
of Katherine Parr, last wife of Henry VIIL, in a French 
volume ; and that of Ben Jonson in a presentation copy of 
his Volpone. 

The library has an extensive collection of newspapers, the 
oldest being a Venetian Gazette, bearing the date of 1570. 

The great reading-room of the library, where free admis- 
sion to read is granted to any person over eighteen years of 
age who can procure a recommendation from a person of 
respectability, is a magnificent apartment. It is a great cir- 
* cular space, containing forty-eight thousand superficial feet, 
covered by a dome one hundred and forty feet in diameter, 
and one hundred and six feet high. This room is open from 
nine A. M. to five or six P. M., and is always well lighted 
and warmed, and contains thirty-seven reading tables, with 
two or three exclusively for ladies. The floor is covered with 
a material which deadens the sound of footsteps, and no loud 
talking is permitted; so that every opportunity is afforded 
for quiet study. Quite a number were busily engaged, some 
with a large heap of volumes about them, evidently looking 
up authorities; others slowly and patiently transcribing or 



THE EGYPTIAN GALLERIES. 241 

translating from some ancient black-letter volume before them; 
and still others quietly and comfortably enjoying the last new 
novel. There is space afforded for three hundred readers, and 
in the centre of the room, on shelves, are catalogues of the 
books and manuscripts contained in the library. Close at 
hand, running round the apartment, are shelves containing 
books of reference, or "lifts of the lazy," such as dictionaries, 
encyclopaedias, &c, which readers are allowed to take from thu 
shel res themselves. These form of themselves a library of 
twenty thousand volumes. For other books the reader tills 
oat a card, and hands it to one of the attendants, who sends 
for it by others, who fetch it from its near or distant shelf. 

The catalogue of the library is not finished, and there is a 
saying that the man is not living who will see it finished, the 
regular additions and occasional bequests serving to keep it 
in a perpetually unfinished condition. The most noted of the 
bequests are those presented by Right Hon. Thomas Gren- 
ville and George III. The former donor, whose gift was 
twenty thousand two hundred and forty volumes, worth over 
fifty thousand pounds, bequeathed his library to the nation as 
an act of justice, saying in his will that the greater part of it 
had been purchased from the profits of a sinecure office, and 
he acknowledged the obligation to the public by giving it to 
the museum for public use. The library of George III. con- 
tained eighty thousand volumes, and is kept in a gallery builf 
expressly to hold it. 

The Egyptian Galleries contain an endless collection of 
antiquities from that ancient land. From Memphis there are 
old monuments, fragments of statues, slabs with innumerable 
hieroglyphics, while old Thebes, the capital of ancient Egypt, 
seems to have been ransacked to have furnished slabs, stones, 
carvings, fragments of monuments, hieroglyphical inscriptions, 
and sarcophagi. In these galleries we saw the granite statue 
of Rameses II., the colossal granite head and shoulders from 
the Memnonium at Thebes ; the head of a colossal ram from an 
avenue of them which leads up to the gateway of one of the 
great palaces atKarnak: here were two granite lions from 
16 



242 A WEALTH OF ANTIQUITIES. 

Nubia ; a colossal head brought from Karnak by Belzoni ; and 
heaps of carved plunder stolen from old Egypt by British 
travellers and the British government; mummies, articles 
taken from mummy pits, ornaments, vases, Egyptian papyri, 
monuments cut by chisels two thousand years before Christ ; 
implements the very use of which can now only be surmised; 
carvings of scenes in domestic life that are guessed at, and of 
battles, feasts, sieges, and triumphs, of which no other record 
exists — a wonder to the curious, and a not yet solved problem 
to the scholar. 

The Assyrian Galleries, with their wealth of antiquities 
from ancient Nineveh, brought principally by Mr. Layard, are 
very interesting. Here we may study the bass-relief from 
Sennacherib's palace, and the hieroglyphics on a monument to 
Sardanapalus, and bass-reliefs of the battles and sieges of his 
reign ; the best specimens of Assyrian sculpture, glass, ivory, 
and bronze ornaments, mosaics, seals, obelisks, and statues, 
the dates of which are from seven to eight hundred years be- 
fore the Christian era. Think of being shown a fragment of 
an inscription relating to Nebuchadnezzar, and another of 
Darius I., a bass-relief of Sardanapalus the Great, the writing 
implements of the ancient Egyptians, the harps, flutes, and 
cymbals, and the very dolls with which their children played 
three thousand years ago ! 

The lover of Roman and Grecian antiquities may enjoy 
himself to his heart's content in the Roman and Grecian Gal- 
leries, where ancient sculptures by artists whose names have 
perished, though their works still challenge admiration, will 
attract the attention. In these galleries the gods and god- 
desses of mythology are liberally represented — the Townley 
Venus, Discobolus (quoit-thrower), elegant bust of Apollo, 
heads and busts of noble Greeks and Romans, and the cele- 
brated marble bust, Clytie; that exquisitely-cut head rising 
above the bust, which springs from a half-unfolded flower. 

The Elgin Marbles are in two rooms, known as the Elgin 
Rooms. These marble sculptures were obtained by the Ean 
of Elgin, in 1S02, while he was the British ambassador at 



BOMAN REMAINS, 24b 

Constantinople.; the sultan granting him a finnan to remove 
from Athens whatever monuments he might wish. He ac- 
cordingly stripped from the Parthenon huge slabs of bass- 
reliefs, marble figures, and ornamental portions of that noble 
building. 

Whatever may be said of this desecration of the Athenian 
temple, it is altogether probable that these world-renowned 
sculptures and most splendid specimens of Grecian art are 
better preserved here, and of more service to the world, than 
they would have been if suffered to remain in the ruin of the 
temple. The beauty of these sculptures, notwithstanding the 
dilapidated and shattered condition of some of them, shows 
in what perfection the art flourished when they were executed, 
and the figures are models yet unsurpassed among artists of 
our own time. 

Besides these galleries, there is also a gallery of Anglo- 
Roman antiquities, found in Britain, another of British anti- 
quities anterior to the Romans, embracing such remains as 
have been found of the period previous to the Roman con- 
quest, known as the stone and bronze period among the anti- 
quaries ; also a collection of Anglo-Saxon antiquities, including 
Saxon swords, spear-heads, bronze ornaments, coins, &c. ; then 
comes a mediaeval collection, a vast array of enamelled work, 
vases, jewelry, armor, mosaic work, seals, earthen ware, and 
weapons of the middle ages ; two great Vase Rooms, filled 
with Grecian, Italian, Roman, and other antique vases, found 
principally in tombs and ancient monuments, from the rudest 
to the most graceful of forms ; the Bronze Room, where we 
revelled amid ancient Greek, Roman, and Etruscan bronzes, 
and found that the Bacchus, Mercury, and Jupiter, and the 
lions, dolphins, satyrs, and vases of antiquity, are still the most 
beautiful and graceful works of art extant, and that a large 
portion of those of our own time are but reproductions of 
these great originals of a former age. 

If the visitor have a zoological taste, the four great galleries 
of zoological specimens — beasts, birds, reptiles, and fishes — 
will engage his attention, in which all sorts and every kind of 



244 OBIGINAL MAGNA CHAKTA. 

stuffed specimens are displayed; and in another gallery a 
splendid collection of fossils may be inspected, where are the 
remains of the gigantic iguanodon and megalosaurus, skeleton 
portions of an enormous bird, ten feet high, from New Zea- 
land, — the unpronounceable Latin name of which I forgot to 
note down, — a splendid entire skeleton of the great Irish deer, 
fossil fish, imprints of bird tracks found in rocks, of skele- 
tons of antediluvian animals, plants, and shells, and huge 
skeletons of the megatherium and mastodon, skeletons and 
fragments of gigantic reindeer, elk, oxen, ibex, turtles, and huge 
lizards and crocodiles now extinct. There are also halls and 
departments for botany and mineralogy, coin and medal room, 
which, besides its splendid numismatical collection, contains 
the celebrated Portland Vase, and some curious historical 
relics. 

Apropos of historical relics; in a room not far from the en- 
trance hall there are some most interesting historical and lit- 
erary curiosities, over and about which I loitered with un- 
abated interest, for here I looked upon the original deed of a 
house in Blackfriars, dated March 11, 1612, and signed Wil- 
liam Shakespeare. Here we saw the original Magna Charta, 
the very piece of parchment that had been thumbed by the 
rebellious barons, and to which King John affixed his unwill- 
ing signature at Runnymede, June 15, 1215. This piece of 
discolored parchment, with the quaint, regular, clerkly old 
English handwriting, and the fragment of the tyrant's great 
seal hanging to it, is the instrument that we have read so 
much of, as the chief foundation of the constitutional liberties 
of the people of England, first executed over six centuries 
and a half ago, and confirmed since then by no less than thirty- 
eight solemn ratifications. It is certainly one of the most in- 
teresting English documents in existence, and we looked upon 
it Va ith feelings something akin to veneration. 

Displayed in glass cases, we read the original draft of the 
will of Mary, Queen of Scots, in her own handwriting, the 
original manuscript of Kenil worth in Walter Scott's hand- 
writing, the original manuscript of Pope's translation of the 



PRICELESS MANUSCRIPTS. 245 

Iliad, a tragedy in the handwriting of Tasso, the original 
manuscript of Macaulay's England, Sterne's Sentimental 
Journey in the author's handwriting, Nelson's own pen 
sketch of the battle of the Nile, Milton's original agreement 
for the sale of Paradise Lost, which was completed April 27, 
1667, the author being then fifty-eight years of age. The 
terms of the sale, which was made to Samuel Symons, a 
bookseller, was five pounds down, with a promise of five 
pounds more when thirteen hundred copies of the first edition 
should have been sold, another five pounds more when thir- 
teen hundred copies of the second edition should be sold, and 
so on for successive editions. It was not, however, till 1674, 
the year of his death, that the second edition was published; 
and in December, 1680, Milton's widow sold all her interest in 
the work for eight pounds, paid by Symons. 

We saw here the little prayer book used by Lady Jane 
Grey on the scaffold, with her name, Jane Dudley, in her own 
handwriting on the fly-leaf; autographic letters from British 
sovereigns, including those of Richard III., Henry IV., Prince 
Hal, Edward the Black Prince, Henry VIII., and Queen 
Elizabeth, Bloody Mary, Charles II., Mary, Queen of Scots, 
and Oliver Cromwell. Nor were these all. Here were Ho- 
garth's receipted bills for some of his pictures, the original 
Bull of Pope Leo X., conferring on Henry VIII. the title of 
Defender of the Faith (and a precious bull he made of it), 
autographic letters of Peter the Great, Martin Luther, Eras- 
mus, Calvin, Sir Thomas More, Cardinal "Wolsey, Archbishop 
Cranmer, John Knox, Robert, Earl of Essex, Dudley, Earl of 
Leicester, Francis Bacon, Sir Isaac Newton ; then a batch of 
literary names, letters from Addison, Dryden, Spenser, Mo- 
here, Corneille ; papers signed by George Washington, Ben- 
jamin Franklin, Horatio Nelson, Napoleon Bonaparte, Francis 
I., Philip II., Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XII. of Sweden, 
and so many fresh and interesting surprises greeted me that I 
verily believe that at last I should have copied down in the 
little note-book, from which I am writing out these memo- 
randa, a despatch from Julius Caesar, announcing that he yes- 



246 FROM LONDON TO PARIS. 

terday passed the River Rubicon, or his " Veni, Vtdi, Vici, 1 ' 
"with the feeling that it was quite correct that such a docu- 
ment should be there. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

From London to Paris. One of the thoughts that coreos 
uppermost in the mind while one is making preparations for 
the journey is the passage of the Channel, about which so 
much has been said and written — a passage in which old 
Neptune, though he may have exempted the traveller on other 
occasions, hardly ever fails to exact his tribute. He who can 
pass the Channel in rough weather without a qualm, may 
henceforth consider himself proof against any attaok of the 
sea god upon his digestion. 

A first-class through ticket from London to Paris costs 
nearly fifteen dollars in gold ; but many cheapen the fare by 
taking first-class boat and second-class railroad tickets. The 
railroad ride to Dover is about seventy miles, and the close 
of it carries us through a tunnel that pierces the celebrated 
Shakespeare's Cliff; and finally we are landed on the pier 
near the little steamer that is to take us over. After a good 
long stare at the high, chalky cliffs of old Albion, we disposed 
ourselves upon deck, comfortable as possible, and by rare 
good fortune had a smooth passage ; for of the entire number 
of passengers, not a single one suffered from seasickness 
during the transit ; so that the huge piles of wash-bowls were 
not even brought into requisition, and the stewards and boat 
boys grumbled at the luck that deprived them of so many six- 
pences and shillings. 

" 'Tisn't horfen the Chan'l runs as smooth as this," said an 
old weather-beaten sort of sea chambermaid, who stood guard 
over the bowls. "She's flat as Dover Pier to-day; but," 



OVEK THE CHANNEL. 247 

added he with a grin, "when yer make hanythink like a 
smooth parsidge over, yer sure to ketch a horful 'eave cornin' 
bacs." 

And he was right. There is one comfortable anticipation,' 
however ; and that is, that the sea trip occupies only an hour 
and a quarter. Arrived at the great railroad station at 
Calais, we had our first experience of a French railway buffet, 
or restaurant, for dinner was ready and the tables spread, the 
passengers having ample time afforded them before the train 
started. 

The neatness of the table linen, the excellence of the 
French bread, the bottles of claret, vin ordinaire, set at in- 
tervals along the table, the promptness and rapidity of the 
service, fine flavor of the soup, and good cooking of the viands, 
were noticeable features. The waiters spoke both French 
and English ; they dashed about with Yankee celerity ; and 
gay, and jolly, and right hearty were the passengers after 
their comfortable transit. Now, in getting positions in the 
cars come trials of indifferent as well as outrageously bad 
attempts at the French language, which the French guards, 
probably from long experience, contrive in some way to un- 
derstand, and not laugh at. 

Arrived at Paris after a journey of eleven hours from Lon- 
don, we have even time, though fatigued, to admire the ad- 
mirable system that prevails at the railroad station, by which 
all confusion is jn'evented in obtaining luggage or carriages, 
and we are soon whirling over the asphalte, floor-like pavements 
to the Hotel de l'Athenee. 

Here I had my first experience of the humbug of French 
politeness ; for, on descending from the carriage, after my lug- 
gage had been deposited at the very office of the hotel, the 
servants, whose duty it was to come forward and take it, 
stood back, and laughed to see the puzzle of a foreigner at 
the demand for pour boire, which, in his inexperience, he did 
not understand, and, when the driver was finally sent away 
with thrice his demand, suffered luggage, lady and gentleman, 
to find their own way to the little cuddy of a bureau, office 



248 GEAND HOTELS. 

of the hotel, and were with difficulty made to undei stand, 
by a proficient in their own tongue, that rooms for the party 
were engaged there. 

This house and the Grand Hotel, which, I believe, are 
" run " by the Credit Mobilier Company, are perfect extortion 
mills in the matter of charges, especially to Americans, whom 
the Parisians make a rule always to charge very much more 
than any one else. During the Exposition year, the Grand 
Hotel extortions were but little short of barefaced swindles 
upon American guests ; and to this day there is no way one 
can quicker arouse the he of certain American citizens than 
to refer to their experiences in that great caravanserai for 
the fleecing of foreign visitors. 

The cuisine of these great hotels is unexceptionable, the 
rooms, which are either very grand or very small, well fur- 
nished, although comfort is too often sacrificed to display ; but 
-the attendance or attention, unless the servants are heavily 
feed, is nothing to speak of, while the charges during the 
travelling season are a third beyond those of other equally 
good, though not " grand " establishments. 

The magnificent new opera house, near these hotels, is a 
huge building, rich on the exterior with splendid statues, mar- 
bles, medallions, carving, and gilding, upon an island as it 
were, with the great, broad avenues on every side of it ; and 
as I sit at table in the salle a manger looking out at it, I 
am suddenly conscious that the English tongue appears to be 
predominant about me ; and so indeed it is, as a large portion 
of the guests at these two hotels are Americans or English, 
which accounts in a measure for the high p rices and bad 
service, the French considering Americans and English who 
travel to be moving money-bags, from which it is their duty 
to extract as much as possible by every means in their power. 

The court-yard of the Grand Hotel, around which, in the 
evening, gentlemen sit to sip a cup of coffee and puff a cigar, 
is such a rendezvous for Americans, that during the Exposi- 
tion it was proposed by some to post up the inscription, 
w French Spoken Here," for fear of mistakes. 



MODES OF LIVING. 21 1) 

The modjs of living, besides that at hotels, have been fre- 
quently described, and hi taking apartments, one must be 
very explicit with the landlord ; indeed, it will be well to take 
a written memorandum from him, else, on the presentation 
of his first bill, one may ascertain the true value of a French- 
man's word, or rather how valueless he considers a verbal 
agreement. 

We had the fortune, however, in hiring apartments, to deal 
with a Frenchman who understood how to bargain with 
foreigners, and had learned that there was something to be 
gained by dealing fairly, and having the reputation of being 
honest. 

This man did a good business by taking new houses im 
mediately after they were finished, hiring furniture, and let 
ting apartments to foreigners. From him we learned that 
French people never like to live in an entirely new house, 
one that has been dwelt in by others for a year having the 
preference ; perhaps this pre-occupation is supposed to take 
the chill off the premises ; so our landlord made a good thing 
of it in taking these houses at a low rent of the owners for 
one year, and getting a reputation for fair prices, fair dealing, 
and an accommodating spirit : those who hired of him were so 
prompt to commend him as an exception among the crowd 
of grasping, cringing rascals in his business, that his houses in 
the pleasant quarter, near the Arc d'Etoile were constantly 
occupied by Americans and English. 

In Paris do as the Parisians do ; and really it is difficult to 
do otherwise in the matter of meals. Breakfast here is taken 
at twelve o'clock, the day being commenced with a cup of 
coffee and a French roll, so that between twelve and one 
business appears at its height in the cafes, and almost sus- 
pended everywhere else. To gastronomic Yankees, accus- 
tomed to begin the day with a good " square " meal, the 
French dejeuner is hardly sufficient to support the three 
hours' 1 sight-seeing our countrymen calculate upon doing be- 
tween that time and the real dejeuner a la fourchette. 

The eights and scenes of Paris have been so thoroughly 



250 tourists' letters. 

described within the past three years, in every style and every 
vein, by the army of correspondents who have visited the 
gay capital, that beyond personal experiences it seems now 
as though but little else could possibly be written. I there- 
fore look at my closely-written note-book, the heap of little 
memoranda, and the well-pencilled fly-leaves of my guide- 
books, of facts, impressions, and experiences, with some feel- 
ings of doubt as to how much of this already, perhaps, too 
familiar matter shall bt inflicted upon the intelligent reader; 
and yet, before I visited Paris, every letter of the descriptive 
tourist kind was of interest, and since then they are doubly 
so. Before visiting Europe, such letters were instruction for 
what I was to one day experience ; and many a bit of useful 
information, read in the desultory letter of some newspaper 
correspondent which had been nearly forgotten, has come to 
mind in some foreign capital, and been of essential service, 
while, as before remarked in these pages, much of the im- 
portant minutiae of travel I have been surprised has not been 
alluded to. That surprise in a measure vanishes, when any 
one with a keen love of travel finds how much occupies his 
attention amid such an avalanche of the enjoyable things 
that he has read, studied, and dreamed of, as are encountered 
in the great European capitals. 

In Paris my first experience at living was in lodgings in 
a fine new house on Avenue Friedland, third flight (an 
troisieme). The apartments consisted of a salon, which 
served as parlor, breakfast and reception room, a sleeping 
room, and a dressing-room with water fixtures and pegs for 
clothing. The grand Arc d'Etoile was in full view, and but 
a few rods from my lodgings, and consequently the very first 
sight that I " did." 

This magnificent monument of the first Napoleon is almost 
as conspicuous a landmark in Paris as is the State House in 
Boston, and seems to form the terminus of many of the broad 
streets that radiate from it, and upon approaching the city 
from certain points overtops all else around. The arch is 
situated in a large, circular street, called the Place d'Etoile, 



MAGNIFICENT AVENUES. 251 

which is filled with elegant houses, with gardens in front, and 
Is one of the most fashionable quarters of Paris : from this 
Place radiate, as from a great star, or like the sticks of a 
lady's fan, twelve of the most magnificent avenues of the 
city, and from the top of the arch itself the spectator can look 
straight down these broad streets for miles. It is quite re- 
cently that several of them have been straightened and 
widened, under the direction of Baron Haussmann ; and one 
cannot but see what a commanding position a battery of 
artillery w r ould occupy stationed in this Place d'Etoile, and 
sweeping down twelve great avenues to the very centre of 
the city. 

The length, breadth, straightness, regularity, and beauty 
of these avenues strike the American visitor with astonish- 
ment. Fancy a street twice as wide as Broadway or Wash- 
ington Street, with a sidewalk as wide as some of our ordinary 
streets, and shaded by a double line of trees, the street itself 
paved or laid in concrete or smooth hard asphalte; the houses 
tall, elegant, and of uniform style; brilliant, with elegant 
stores, cafes with their crowds at the tables set in front of 
them ; the gay, merry throngs ; little one-horse barouches, the 
French voitures, as they are called, flying here and there, and 
the more stylish turn-outs of the aristocracy, — and you have 
some idea of the great avenues leading up to the Arc d'Etoile. 
Aiter passing this grand arch, you enter upon the magnificent 
Avenue de l'Imperatrice, three hundred feet wide, which leads 
to the splendid Bois de Boulogne, an avenue that is crowded 
with the rush of elegant equipages, among which were to be 
seen those of foreign ambassadors, rich residents, English and 
other foreign noblemen, French ballet-dancers, and the demi 
monde, every pleasant afternoon. 

This great arch of triumph overwhelms one with its gran 
deur and vastness upon near approach ; it lifts its square altar 
over one hundred and fifty feet from the ground ; its width is 
one hundred and thirty-seven feet, and it is sixty-eight feet in 
thickness. The grand central arch is a great curve, ninety 
feet high and forty-five wide, and a transverse arch — that is, 



252 THE ARCH OF TRIUMPH. 

one going through it from one end to the other — is fifty-seven 
feet high and twenty-five wide. The arch fronts the mag 
nificent Champs Elysees, adown which broad vista the visitoi 
looks till he sees it expand into the grand Place de la Con 
corde, with its fountains and column of Luxor, beyond which 
rise the Tuileries. The outside of this arch has superb groups, 
representing warlike scenes, .allegorical figures, &c, by some 
of the most celebrated French and Italian artists. Some of 
the great figures of Victory, History, Fame, &c, are from 
eighteen to twenty feet in height. Inside the arch, upon its 
walls, are cut in the solid stone the names of nearly a hun- 
dred victories, and also the names of French generals whose 
bravery won so much renown for the French nation, so much 
glory for then* great Corsican captain, and which are names 
that are identified with his and la grancle armee. 

This superb monument was commenced, in 1806, by Na- 
poleon, but not completed till 1836; and some idea maybe 
obtained of the work and skill expended upon it from its cost, 
which was ten million four hundred and thirty-three thou- 
sand francs, or over two millions of dollars in gold. Two of 
the groups of bass-reliefs upon it cost nearly thirty thousand 
dollars. Ascent to the top is obtained by broad staircases, 
up a flight of two hundred and seventy-two steps, and the 
visitor may look down the Avenue de la Grande Armee, 
Avenue d'Eylau, or over the beautiful Avenue de l'lmpera- 
trice, or Champs Elysees, far as his eye can reach, and still 
farther by the aid of the telescopes and spy-glasses kept by 
the custodians on the summit. 

Descending from the arch, we will take a stroll down the 
Avenue des Champs Elysees — the broad, beautiful avenue 
which appears to be the favorite promenade of Parisians. 
Upon either side of this avenue are open grounds, and groves 
of trees, in and amid which is every species of cheap amuse- 
ment for the people — open booths in which are little games 
of chance for cheap prizes of glass ware and toys, mcrry-go- 
rounds, Punch and Judy shows, elegant cafes with their 
throngs of patrons sitting in front and watching the passers 



PARIS BY GAS-LIGHT. 253 

by, 01 the gay equipages on their way to the Bois cle Bou- 
logne. In one of these groves, at the side of the Champs 
Elysees, is the Circus of the Empress, where feats of horse- 
manship are performed, and in another a fine military band 
plays every afternoon; the old Palais de l'Industrie fronts 
upon this avenue, and the celebrated Jardin Mabille is but a 
few steps from it; but this should be seen by gas-light; so, 
indeed, should the whole avenue, which by night, in the sum- 
mer, presents a most fairy-like scene. Then the groves are 
illuminated by thousands of colored lights ; Cafes Chantants 
are seen with gayly-dressed singers, sitting in ornamented 
kiosks, which are illuminated by jets of gas in every con- 
ceivable form ; here, at a corner, a huge lyre of fire blazes, and 
beneath it shines, in burning letters, the name of a celebrated 
cafe, or theatre; the little booths and penny shows are all 
gayly illuminated ; gas gleams and flashes in all sorts of fan 
tastic forms from before and w ithin the cafe ; and, looking far 
up the avenue, to where the great arch rears its dark form, 
you see thousands of colored lights flitting too and -fro, 
hither and thither, in every direction, like a troup of elves on 
a midnight gambol ; these are the lights upon the cabs and 
voitures, which are obliged by law to have them, and those 
of different quarters of the city are distinguished the one from 
the other by different colors. 

The cheapness and convenience of these little one-horse 
open barouches of Paris make us long for the time when 
they and the English Hansom cab shall displace the great, 
cumbersome carriage we now use in America. One of these 
little fiacres, which you can hail at any time, and almost any- 
where in the streets of Paris, carries you anywhere you may 
choose, to go in the city from one point to another, for a franc 
and a half fare, and a pour boire of about three or four cents 
to the driver; or, if taken by the hour, you can glide over the 
nsphalte floor-like streets at the rate of two francs an hour. 
The police regulations respecting fares are very strict and 
rigidly enforced, as, in fact, are all the police regulations, 
which are most excellent; and the order, system, and roga- 



254 PLACE DE LA CONCORDE. 

larity which characterize all arrangements at places of public 
resort and throughout the city, give the stranger a feeling of 
perfect safety and confidence — confidence that he is under 
the protection and eye of a power and a law, one which is 
prompt and efficient in its action, and in no way to be trifled 
with, The fiacre drivers all have their printed carte of the 
tariftj upon which is their number, which they hand to cus- 
tomers upon entering the vehicle ; these can be used in case 
of imposition or dispute, which, however, very seldom occurs ; 
rewards are given to drivers for honesty in restoring articles 
left in vehicles, and the property thus restored to owners by 
the police in the course of a year is very large, sometimes 
reaching sixty or seventy thousand dollars. 

Straight down the broad Champs Elysees, till we came 
into that magnificent and most beautiful of all squares in 
Paris, the Place de la Concorde. Here, in this great open 
square, which the guide-books describe as four hundred paces 
in length, and the same in width, several other superb views 
of the grand avenues and splendid public buildings are ob- 
tained. Standing in the centre, I looked back, up the broad 
Champs Elysees, more than a mile in length, the whole 
course slightly rising in grade, till the view terminated with 
the Triumphal Arch. Looking upon one side, we saw the old 
palace of the Bourbons, now the palace of the Corps Legis- 
latif. Fronting upon one side of the Place are two magnifi- 
cent edifices, used as government offices, and up through the 
Rue Royale that divides them, the vista is terminated by the 
magnificent front of the Madeleine. 

Here, in the centre of the square, we stood opposite the 
celebrated obelisk of Luxor, that expensive gift of the Pacha 
of Egypt to Louis Philippe, and which, from the numerous 
bronze models of it sold in the fancy goods stores in America, 
is getting to be almost as familiar as Bunker Hill monument. 
Indeed, a salesman in Tiffany and Company's room of 
bronzes, in Broadway, New York, once told me that, not- 
withstanding the hieroglyphics upon the bronze repres'enta- 
tions of this obelisk that they sell, he had more than oucu 



SITE OF THE GUILLOTINE. 'Z05 

had people*, who looked as though they ought to have known 
better, cry out, " O, here's Bunker Hill Monument; and it 
looks just like it, too." 

The Luxor obelisk was a heavy, as well as an expensive 
present, for it weighed five hundred thousand pounds, and 
it cost the French government more than forty thousand 
dollars to get it in place upon its pedestal ; but now that it is 
here, it makes a fine appearance, and, as far as proportions 
and looks go, appears to be very appropriately placed in the 
centre of this magnificent square, its monolith of red granite 
rising one hundred feet ; though, as we lean over the rail 
that surrounds it, the thought suggests itself, that this old 
chronicle of the deeds of Sesostris the Great, who reigned 
more than a thousand years before Paris had an existence, 
and whose hundred-gated city is now a heap of ruins, was 
really as out of place here, in the great square of the gayest 
of modern capitals, as a funeral monument in a crowded 
street, or an elegy among the pages of a novel. Around the 
square, at intervals, are eight huge marble statues, seated 
upon pedestals, which represent eight of the great cities of 
France, such as Marseilles, Rouen, Lyons, Bordeaux, &c. 
Each figure is said to face in the direction in which the city 
or town it is called for lies from Paris. 

The great bronze fountains that stand in the centre of the 
square have round basins, fifty feet in diameter, above which 
rise others of lesser sizes. Tritons and water nymphs about 
the lower basin hold dolphins, which spout streams of water 
into the upper ones, and at the base sit ponderous granite 
figures, which the Parisians say do well to sit down, for, if 
they stood up, they would soon be fatigued by their own 
weight. But the great fountain here in the Place de la Con- 
corde marks an historic spot. It is no more nor less than the 
site of that horrid instrument, the guillotine, during the 
French revolution ; and it was here, in this great square, now 
filled with bright and happy crowds, gazing at the flashing 
waters of the fountains, the statues, and obelisk, or rambling 
amid the pretty walks, lined with rnany-hued flowers, in the 



256 THE REIGN OF TEEEOB. 

gardens of the Tuileries near by, — it was here, round and 
about, that the fierce crowd surged during some of the 
bloodiest scenes in French history. Near where rises the 
bronze fountain, the horrid scaffold once stood ; here, where 
the crystal streams rush and foam, shine and sparkle in the 
sunbeams, once poured out the richest and basest blood of 
France, in torrents almost rivalling those that now dash into 
tho great basin that covers the spot they crimsoned; here 
the head of Louis XVI. fell from his shoulders ; here Char- 
lotte Corday met death unterrified ; here twenty-two Giron- 
dists poured out their life-blood; here poor Marie Antoinette 
bent her neck to the cruel knife, and the father of Louis 
Philippe met his death ; here the victims of the fell tyram 
Robespierre fell by hundreds. At length Danton himself, and 
his party, were swept before the descending axe ; and finally 
the bloody Robespierre and his fierce associates met a just 
retribution beneath the sweep of the insatiate blade, sixty ot 
seventy falling beneath it in a day. ' 

Great heavens ! would they never tire of blood, or was the 
clang of the guillotine music to their ears, that for more than 
two years they kept the horrid machine in motion, till twenty- 
eight hundred victims fell beneath its stroke! Well said 
Chateaubriand, in opposing the erection of a fountain upon 
the very site of the scaffold, that all the water in the world 
would not be sufficient to efface the bloody stains with which 
the place was sullied. It thus fell out that it was agreed, 
that any monument placed in this memorable square should 
be one which should bear no allusion to political events, and 
the gift of Mehemet Ali afforded opportunity to place one. 
So here the laudatory inscription to a warlike Egyptian of 
three thousand years ago and more is placed, to change the 
current of men's thoughts, who may stand here and think of 
the surging crowd of fierce sans-culottes, and still fiercer 
women, who once thronged this place, and who were treated 
to their fill of what their brutal natures demanded — blood, 
blood! 

But are these the people that would do such horrid deeds 



IMPROVEMENTS IN PARIS. 257 

— these men we see around us, with varnished boots, immac- 
ulate linen, and' irreproachable costume? these ladies, gentle 
creatures, with faultless costume, ravishing boots, dainty toi- 
lets, and the very butterflies of fashion ? If you woidd like 
something approaching a realization of your imagination, 
wait till you get into the Latin quarter, or in some of the 
old parta of Paris, where narrow lanes have not yet been 
made into broad avenues; where low-browed, blue-bloused 
workmen are playing dominoes in cheap wine-shops; and 
coarse women, with big, bare, red arms, and handkerchief- 
swathed heads, stand in the doorways and bandy obscene 
jests at the passers by; where foul odors assail the olfac- 
tories; where you meet the sergent-de-ville frequently; and 
where, despite of what you have heard of the great improve- 
ments made in Paris, you see just such places as the Tapis 
Franc, described in Eugene Sue's Mysteries of Paris, and in 
which, despite the excellence of the Parisian police, you had 
rather not trust yourself after dark without a guard ; and you 
will meet to-day those whom it would seemingly take but 
little to transform into the fierce mob of 1792. 

The gigantic improvements made in Paris during the 
reign of Louis Napoleon are apparent even to the newly- 
arrived tourist, and are unequalled by any city in the world. 
Broad, elegant avenues have been cut through densely-pop- 
ulated and filthy districts ; great squares, monuments, opera- 
houses, theatres, and public buildings of unexampled splendor 
have arisen on every side; palaces and monuments have been 
repaired and restored, the great quadrangle of the Louvre 
and Tuilleries completed. Turn which way one will, he sees 
the evidences of this remarkable man's ability — excellent 
police arrangements, drainage, public works, liberality to for- 
eigners, &c. What little opportunity I had of judging the 
French people almost leads me to believe that no government 
could be invented under the sun that would satisfy them for 
any length of time, and that they would attempt revolutions 
merely for a new sensation. 

From this square it is but a few steps to the garden of the 
17 



258 THE BASTILLE. 

Tuilleries. The portion of the garden that is immediately 
contiguous to the palace is not open to the public, but sepa- 
rated from it by a sort of trench and an iron railing. The 
public portion of the garden is beautifully laid out with 
parterres of flowers, fountains, bronze and marble statues, 
&c. While promenading its walks, our attention was at- 
tracted to a man who seemed upon the best of terms with 
the birds that flew from the trees and bushes, and perched 
upon his head, hands, and arms, ate bird-seed off his hat and 
shoulders, and even plucked it from between his lips. He 
was evidently either some " Master of the Birds to the Em- 
peror," or a favored bird-charmer, as he appeared to be famil- 
iarly acquainted with the feathered warblers, and also the 
police, who sauntered by without interfering with him. 

The exciting scenes of French history, that are familiar to 
every school-boy's memory, render Paris, to say nothing of 
its other attractions, one of those points fraught with histori- 
cal associations that the student longs to visit. To stand 
upon the very spot where the most memorable events of 
French history took place, beneath the shadow of some of 
the self-same buildings and monuments that have looked 
down upon them, and to picture in one's mind how those 
scenes of the past must have appeared, is pleasant experience 
to those of an imaginative turn. Here we stand in the Place 
de la Bastille, the very site of the famous French prison ; the 
horrors of its dungeons and the cruelties of its jailers have 
chilled the blood of youth and roused the indignation of ma- 
turer years ; but here it was rent asunder and the inmost secrets 
exposed by the furious mob, in the great revolution of 1789, 
and not a vestige of the terrible prison now remains. In the 
broad, open square rises a tall monument of one hundred and 
fifty feet, from the summit of which a figure of Liberty, with 
a torch in one hand and broken chain in another, is poised 
upon one foot, as if about to take flight. The stones of the 
cruel dungeons of the Bastille now form the Pont de la Con- 
corde, trampled under foot, as they should be, by the thiongs 
that daily pass and repass that splendid bridge. The last his- 



COLUMN TENDOME. 259 

toricai and revolutionary act in this square was the burning 
of Louis Philippe's throne there in 1848. 

Passing through the Rue de la Paix, celebrated for its 
handsome jewelry and gentlemen's furnishing goods stores, and 
as a street where you may be sure of paying the highest price 
asked in Paris for any thing you wish to purchase, we came 
out into the Place Vendome, in the middle of which stands 
the historic column we have so often read of, surmounted by 
the bronze statue of the great Napoleon, who erected this 
splendid and appropriate trophy of his victories. One hun- 
dred and thirty-five feet high, and twelve in diameter, is this 
well-known column, and the bronze bass-reliefs, which com- 
mence at the base and circle round the shaft to its top, are 
cast from twelve hundred pieces of Russian and Austrian 
cannon, which the great Corsican captured in his campaign 
of 1805, which ended with the tremendous battle of Auster- 
litz. The bass-reliefs on the pedestal are huge groups of weap 
ons, war-like emblems, &c, and four huge bronze eagles s 
weighing five hundred pounds each, holding wreaths, are 
perched at the four corners of the pedestal. 

The iron railing around this monument is thickly hung 
with wreaths of immortelles / these are placed here by the 
surviving soldiers of the grand army of Napoleon I., and are 
renewed once a year upon some celebrated anniversary, when 
the spectacle of this handful of trembling veterans of the first 
empire, showing their devotion to the memory of their great 
chieftain, is a most touching one, while the deference and hon- 
or shown to these shattered relics of France's warlike, host, 
whose deeds have won it an imperishable name in military 
glory, must be gratifying to their pride. I saw an old shrunk- 
en veteran with a wooden leg hobbling along with a stick, 
who wore an old-fashioned uniforin, upon which glittered the 
medals and decorations of the first empire, to whom senti- 
nels at public stations, as he passed, presented arms with a 
clang and clatter that seemed to send the faint sparks of 
dying fire up into his eyes, with a momentary martial gleam 
beneath his shaggy white eyebrows, as he raised his shrunkec 



260 THE OLD GTJAKD. 

hand in acknowledgment to his old-fashioned kepi, while the 
military salutes, and even deferential raising of hats, of young 
officers, his superiors in rank, that he passed, were returned 
with a smile beneath his snowy mustache that bespoke what 
an incense to his pride as a soldier of the grand army were 
all such tokens. 

But it was a still more interesting sight to see, at the court- 
yard ol the Hotel des Invalides, at about noon, on the occasion 
of some daily military routine, some thirty or forty of these 
old soldiers in various uniforms, wearing side arms only, some 
hobbling upon one leg, others coming feebly but determinedly 
into line as they ever did on the great battle-fields of the 
empire, and stand in dress parade while the band played its 
martial strains, and their own flags surmounted by the French 
eagles waved before them, and a splendid battalion of French 
troops (some of thfur sons and grandsons, perhaps), officers 
and men, presented arms to them as they saluted the flags 
they had won renown under half a century before, and then 
slowly, and with an effort at military precision that was al- 
most comical, filed back to their quarters. 

We used to read in Rogers's poem of Ginevra that, 

' " If ever you should come to Modena, 

(Where, among other relics, you may see 
Tassoni's hucket ; hut 'tis not the true one ; ") 

so. also, if ever you should go to Paris, you will be shown at 
one end of the Louvre a large window, from which you will 
be told Charles IX. fired upon the flying Huguenots as they 
ran from the ferocious mob that pursued them with bloody 
weapons and cries of " Kill, kill ! " on the night of St. Bar- 
tholomew, 1572 ; but this window is "not the true one," for 
it was not built till long after the year of the massacre ; but 
the old church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, near by, from the 
belfry of which first issued the fatal signal of that terrible 
night, is still standing, and the Parisians in that vicinity find 
it easy to detect strangers and foreigners, from their pausing 
and looking up at this church with an expression of interest. 



THE LOTJVRE. 261 

Tile Louv.ee ! Every letter-writer goes into ecstasies over 
it, is struck with .wonder at its vastness, and luxuriates in the 
inspection of its priceless treasures. The completion of the 
connection of the Louvre with the Tuilleries, made by Louis 
Napoleon, gives a grand enclosed space., surrounded on all 
sides by the magnificent buildings of this great gallery of fine 
arts and the royal palaces. 

At one end, dividing the court-yard of the Louvre from 
that of the Tuileries, rises the triumphal Arc du Carrousel, 
erected by Napoleon in 1806, surmounted with its car of 
victory and bronze horses ; and here the memory of the army 
of the first empire is perpetuated by statues of cuirassiers, 
infantry and artillerymen, in the uniform of their different 
corps, and the fashion in vogue at that time, while bass 
reliefs represent various battle scenes in which they figured. 
It was in this open space, now the most magnificent court in 
Europe, that the guillotine was first set up, before it was re- 
moved to the square which is now the Place de la Concorde. 
An iron fence runs across the court-yard at this point, mak- 
ing a division of the space, as it is from an entrance in the 
palace, fronting this arch, that the emperor, empress, and im- 
perial family generally make their entrance and exit. 

The architectural appearance and ornaments of these ele- 
gant buildings combine to form a splendid interior, as it were, 
of this vast enclosed square ; the buildings, fronted with Co- 
rinthian columns, elegant and elaborate sculptures, and stat- 
ues, form a space something like a vast parallelogram, their 
uniformity being internrpted by magnificent and lofty pavil- 
ions, as they are called. When we say the Boston City Hall 
is somewhat of a poor copy of one of these pavilions, it may 
give the reader an idea of what they are. Their fronts are 
adorned with great groups of statuary, wreaths, decorations, 
and allegorical figures, beautifully cut, and through their vast 
gateways ingress is had from the street. All along the front 
of the buildings, upon this interior space, are statues of dis- 
tinguished men of France. I counted over eighty of them. 
Among them were those of Colbert, Mazarin, Racine, Voltaire, 
Vauban, Bufibn, Richelieu, Montaigne, &c. 



2(52 WORKS OF NAPOLEON 111. 

The completion of the connection of the two palaces by Louis 
Napoleon has rendered this court-yard indescribably grand and 
elegant, while its vastness strikes the beholder with, astonish- 
ment. The space that is now enclosed and covered by the old 
and new Louvre and Tuileries is about sixty acres. An idea of 
the large amount of money that has been lavished upon these 
elegant piles may be obtained from the fact that the cost of 
the sculptures on the new part of the building is nearly half 
a million dollars; but then, perhaps, as an American re- 
marked, it ought to be a handsome place, since they have 
been over three hundred years building it. Some of the 
finest portions of the architectural designs of the facade of 
the Louvre were completed by Napoleon I. from the designs 
of Perrault, a physician, and the author of fully as enduring 
monuments of genius — those charming fairy tales of Cin- 
derella, Bluebeard, and the Sleeping Beauty. Perhaps the 
ornamental columns and beautiful decorations were some- 
thing of a realization of his ideas of palaces of the fairies 
and genii, in his charming stories. 

The work of improvement upon the buildings and court, 
yard of the Louvre is still going on, and the present emperor 
will leave here, as well as in many other parts of Paris, the 
impress of his power, as used for beautifying the French cap- 
ital, and raising enduring monuments of the encouragement 
of improvements, progress, and the arts, during his reign. 

We have been in and through the Louvre, not in one visit, 
but again and again, over acres of flooring, past miles of pic- 
tures, — a jnethora of luxurious art, — days of wonder, and 
hours of sight-seeing. How many originals we have gazed 
upon that we have seen copies of in every style ! how many 
pictures of great artists that we have read of, and how many 
curious and wonderful historical relics and antiquities! 
What an opportunity for the student and the artist, what a 
source of amusement and entertainment, what a privilege, 
in these old countries, is the free admission to these costly 
aud well-stocked galleries of art — here, where we may see 
hundreds of celebrated pictures and statues, any two of 



A WEAJLTH OP ART. 2C3 

which would "pay handsomely," placed on exhibition in one 
of our great American cities ; here, where there are seven 
miles of pictures, and their catalogue makes a thick book of 
over seven hundred pages ; here, where, if you were to start 
and walk constantly, without stopping an instant to rest, it 
would require three hours to pass through the different apart- 
ments ; here, where, perhaps, the American tourist or news- 
paper correspondent sharpens his pencil and takes a fresh 
note-book, with the feeling that it is a prolific field, but is 
overwhelmed with an ocean of art, and consoles himself with 
the thought that the Louvre has been so often described, 
written about, and commented on, that the subject is worn 
threadbare ; and that the public has had enough of rhapso- 
dies and descriptions of it. 

And he is more than half right. The Louvre alone is a 
great exposition, that would suffice to attract thousands of 
foreigners to Paris The number of visitors is immense. 
Galignani says that the produce of the sale of catalogues 
amounts to forty thousand dollars a year, and more than 
twenty thousand dollars per annum are taken for depositing 
canes and umbrellas at the d-oor, the charge for which service 
is only two or three sous. It is best to avoid, if possible, the 
taking of canes, parasols, and umbrellas with you, as it may 
chance that you will desire to make exit at some point dis- 
tant from that of entrance, and save the trouble of returning 
for the impedimenta. 

I commenced with a determination, like many others, to 
see the Louvre thoroughly and systematically, and therefore 
began with the basement story, entering the museum of 
Assyrian antiquities, thence into Egyptian halls of curiosities, 
where the visitor gets view of a large and interesting collec- 
tion from the cities of Nineveh, Thebes, &c, the results of 
the researches and discoveries of French savants and trav- 
ellers in the East — vases, mummies, fragments of sculptured 
stones and figures, manuscripts, besides articles of domestic 
use among the ancient Egyptians. 

Here were the mirrors that Theban dames arranged their 



264 STATUARY AT THE LOUVRE. 

dark tresses at, and the combs, needle and toilet eases that 
they used; musical instruments, games, and weights and 
measures ; articles of ornament, and of the household, that 
have been exhumed from the monuments of ancient cities — 
a rare and curious collection ; then come the Algerian mu- 
seum, the Renaissance sculpture gallery, with beautiful 
groups of bronze and marble statuary, dating from the com- 
mencement of the sixteenth century, among which is the cel- 
ebrated one of Diana with the Stag, the likeness being that 
of Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Henry II. ; then come the 
five different halls of modern sculptures, where we saw Cano- 
va's Cupid and Psyche, Julien's Ganymede and Eagle, Bar 
tolini's colossal bust of Bonaparte, and groups representing 
Cupid cutting his bow from Hercules' club, Perseus releasing 
Andromeda, and many others. 

Next we reach the museum of antique marbles, a grand 
gallery, divided off into half partitions, and rich in superb 
ancient statuary. One of the halls of this gallery is noted 
as being that in which Henry IV. was married ; and here, 
too, was his body brought after his assassination by Ravail- 
lac ; but the visitor's thoughts of historical associations are 
banished by the beautiful works of art that meet him on 
eveiy hand. Here is Centaur overcome by Bacchus, the 
Borghese Vase, the Stooping Venus, Pan, the Three Graces, 
Hercules and Telephus, Mars, Cupid proving his bow, Dan- 
cing Faun, a magnificent figure of Melpomene, twelvo feet high, 
with the drapery falling so naturally about as almost to cheat 
belief that it was the work of the sculptor's chisel ; anothei 
magnificent colossal figure of Minerva, about ten feet high, 
armed with helmet and shield; the Borghese Gladiator, a 
splendid figure ; Wounded Amazon, Satyr and Faun, Diana 
and the Deer, Wounded Gladiator, Bass-relief of triumphal 
procession of Bacchus and Ariadne, &c. 

I am aware that this enumeration will seem something like 
a reproduction of a catalogue to some readers, though it is 
but the pencilled memoranda of a very few of the notable 
pieces in this magnificent collection, before which I was ena- 



A. GODDESS. 265 

bled to halt anything like long enough to examine strictly 
and admire ; for the days seemed all too short, our few weeks 
in Paiis too brief, and this grand collection, with other sight- 
seeing, a formidable undertaking, as we now began to con- 
template it, when I found myself still upon this basement 
floor of the Louvre after nearly a day's time, and the thought 
that if my resolution to see the whole, systematically and 
thoroughly, were faithfully carried out, almost a season in 
Paris would be required, and but little time left for anything 
else. 

I have seen copies, and busts, and engravings of the Venus 
of Milo a hundred times, but never was attracted by it 
enough to go into raptures over its beauty, being, perhaps, 
unable to view it with an artistic eye ; but as I chanced to 
approach the great original here from a very favorable point 
of view, as it stood upon its pedestal, with the mellow light 
of the afternoon falling uj^on the beautiful head acd shoul- 
ders, the effect upon me was surprising to myself. I thought 
I never before had gazed upon more exquisitely moulded fea- 
tures. The features seemed really those of a goddess, and 
admiration divided itself in the beauty of the production and 
ohe genius of an artist that could conceive and execute it. I 
am not ashamed to say, that during the hour I spent in the 
room in which this beautiful work of art is placed I came to 
a better understanding concerning some of the enthusiasm 
respecting art manifested by certain friends, which I had 
hitherto regarded as commonplace expressions, or was at loss 
to understand the real feeling that prompted their fervor. 

If the visitor is amazed at the fine collection of sculpture 
and statuary, what are his feelings at beholding the grand 
and almost endless halls of paintings as he ascends to the 
floors above! Here, grand galleries, spacious and well lighted, 
stretch out seemingly as far as the eye can reach, while halls 
and ante-rooms, here and there passages, and vestibules, and 
rooms, are crammed with the very wealth of art ; here the 
chefs d'ceuwe of the great artists of Europe, known all ovej 
the world by copies and engravings, are collected; nnd the 



266 ARTISTS AT WOEK. 

pleasure of looking upon these groat originals is a gratifies* 
tion not easy to be described. 

The lover of art, as he passes from point to point, from 
one great work to another, to each fresh surprise that awaits 
him, feels like shaking hands mentally with himself in con- 
gratulation at the enjoyment experienced in seeing so much 
of real and genuine art collected together, and under such 
favorable circumstances. 

The paintings in the galleries are all arranged according to 
different schools of art. Thus the Spanish, Dutch, and Ger- 
man schools are arrayed in one gallery, the Italian in another, 
the modern French school in another ; and these are further- 
arranged in subdivisions, so that the student and art lover 
may study, inspect, or copy, in any department of art that he 
may desire. 

What a host of masterpieces in the great gallery ! And 
here were artists, male and female, copying them. Some, 
with little easel and chair, were merely sketching a single 
head from a group in some grand tableau. Others, with huge 
framework, and mounted up many feet from the floor, were 
making full copies of some great painting. Students were 
sketching in crayon, upon crayon paper, portions of designs 
from some favorite artist. Ladies were making cabinet copies 
of paintings, and others copying celebrated heads upon tab- 
lets of the size of miniatures ; and one artist I observed 
putting a copy of a group upon a handsome vase that was 
before him. Nearly every one of the most noted paintings by 
great masters had two or three artists near it, making copies. 

The Grand Gallery, as it is called, is a quarter of a mile 
long, and over forty feet wide, and with its elegantly orna- 
mented ceilings, its magnificent collection of nearly two 
thousand splendid paintings, including some of the finest 
masterjDieces in the world, and superb vista, presents a coup 
cfceil that can hardly fail to excite enthusiasm even from those 
who are not professed admirers of pictures. 

Think of the lux iry of seeing the original works of Raphael, 
Rembrandt, Titian, Rubens, Claude Lorraine, Holbein, Paul 



GALLERY OF MASTERPIECES. 267 

Veronese, Guido, Quintin Matsys, Murillo, Teniers, Ostade, 
Wouverman, Vandyke, David, Andrea del Sarto, Vernet, 
Leonardo' da Vinci, Ponssin, Albert Diirer, &c, besides those 
of other celebrated artists, all in one gallery ! And it is not a 
meagre representation of them either, for the Louvre is rich 
in works from each of these great artists. There was Paul 
Veronese's great picture of the Repast in the House of Simon 
the Pharisee, thirty-one feet long and fifteen high, and his 
Marriage at Cana, a magnificent tableau, thirty-two feet long 
and twenty-one high, the figures splendid portraits of cele- 
brated persons ; Titian's Entombment of Christ ; Raphael's 
beautiful picture of the Virgin and Child ; Murillo's Concep- 
tion of the Virgin, which cost twenty-four thousand six hun- 
dred pounds ; Landscape by Claude Lorraine ; a whole gal- 
lery of Rubens, and another of Joseph Vernet's Seaports ; 
then there is the Museum of Design, of fourteen rooms full 
of designs, over thirty thousand in number, of the great mas- 
ters in all schools of art. Here one may look on the original 
sketches, in pencil and India ink, of Rembrandt, Holbein, 
Diirer, Poussin, and other great artists. 

It would be but a sort of guide-book review to enumerate 
the different halls and their wonders, such as one that is de- 
voted entirely to antique terra cottas, another to jewelry ano' 
ornaments of the mediaeval and renaissance period, another to 
specimens of Venetian glass ware, of exquisite designs and 
workmanship, another to bronzes, &c. The Museum of Sov- 
ereigns was interesting in historical relics ; for it was some- 
thing, remember, to have looked upon the sceptre, sword, and 
spurs of Charlemagne, the arm-chair of King Dagobert, the 
alcove in the room where Henry IV. (" King Henry of Na- 
varre ") used to sleej) ; Marie Antoinette's shoe, her cabinet 
and casket ; Henry II.'s armor, and the very helmet through 
which the lance of Montgomeri weni that killed him in the 
tournament in 1559; Charles IX.'s helmet and shield, the 
coronation robes of Charles X., and a host of other relics thai 
have figured in French history. 

One room is devoted to relics of Napoleon I., and is called 



268 RELICS OF NAPOLEON 1. 

the Hall of the Emperor. Here you may look upon the very 
uniform that he wore on the bloody field of Marengo, a 
locket containing his hair, the flag of the Old Guard, that he 
kissed when he bade adieu at Fontainebleau, the veritable 
gray overcoat which he wore, and the historical cocked hat 
which distinguished him, the cockade worn when he landed 
from Elba, the great coronation robes worn when he was 
crowned emperor, his sword, riding whip, and saddle, the 
pocket-handkerchief used by him on his death-bed, article? 
of clothing, &c. The cases containing these articles were 
thronged, and the curious French crowd looked upon them 
with a sort of veneration, and occasional exclamations of won- 
derment or sympathy, as some descriptive inscription was 
read and explained to an unlettered visitor by his more fortu- 
nate companion. 

But suffice it to say that the Louvre, with its superb collec- 
tions, and its almost endless " Salles de — " everything, is 
overwhelming in the impression it gives as a wealth of art. 
It is impossible to convey a correct idea of it to the lover of 
art, or even the longing lover of travel who has Europe in 
prospect. In the words of the modern advertisers, it must be 
seen to be appreciated, and will require a great many visits to 
see enough of it to properly appreciate it. 

Right opposite the Louvre, across a square, is the Palais 
Royal, attractive to all Americans and English from the 
restaurants, and jewelry, and bijouterie shops, which are on 
the ground floor, and form the continuous arcade or four sides 
of the square of the garden which they enclose. This garder 
is about a thousand feet long and four hundred wide, with 
trees, flowers, and fountain, and a band plays in the afternoon 
to the entertainment of the crowd of loungers who have dined 
at the Trois Freres, Yefour, or Rotonde, lounge in chairs, and 
sip cafe, noir, or absinthe, if Frenchmen, or smoke cigars and 
drink wine, if Americans. The restaurants here and in the 
vicinity are excellent ; but one wants a thorough experience, 
or an expert to teach him how to dine at a French restaurant 
otherwise he may pay twice as much as he need to have dona 



PALAIS KOYAL JEWELRY. U69 

and dun not get what he desired. Fresh arrivals, Etiglish 
and Americans,- are rich game for the restaurants. They 
know not all the dodges hy which the Frenchman gets four 
or five excellent courses for almost half what it costs the unin- 
itiated, such as ordering a four-franc dinner, with a privilege 
of ordering so many dishes of meat, so many of vegetables, 
or one of meat for two of the latter, or the ordering of one 
" portion " for two persons, &c. And I do not know as my 
countrymen would always practise them if they did ; for being 
accustomed at home to order more than they want at a res- 
taurant, and to make the restaurant-keeper a free gift of what 
they do not use, they are rather apt, in Paris, to " darn the 
expense," and order what suits their palates, without investi- 
gating the cost till they call for the garcon with " I 'addition" 

The jewelry shops in the arcade around the Palais Royal 
Garden are of two kinds — those for the sale of real jewelry 
and rich fancy goods, and those selling the imitation. These 
latter are compelled by law to keep a sign conspicuously dis- 
played, announcing the fact that their wares are imitation, 
and any one found selling imitation for real is, I understand, 
severely punished. The imitation jewelry stores are very at- 
tractive, and it is really quite remarkable to what perfection 
the art is carried. Imitation of diamonds, made from polished 
rock-crystal, which will retain their brilliancy for some months, 
mock coral, painted sets, imitation gold bracelets, chains, neck- 
laces, sleeve-buttons, and earrings, of every conceivable de- 
sign, very prettily made. 

The designs of this cheap jewelry are fully equal to that of 
the more costly kind, and it is retailed here in large quantities 
at a far more reasonable price, in proportion to its cost, than 
is the Attleboro' jewelry in our own country. The arcade 
used to be thronged with Americans, who purchased generally 
n-om a handful to a half peck each of the attractive and pret- 
ty articles which are so liberally displayed here. 

The French shopkeepers are quick to detect a stranger or 
foreigner, and very many of them regulate their prices accord 
ingly; so that one soon ascertains that it is not labor in vain 



270 A FRENCH FUNERAL. 

to urge a reduction in price, even in establishments where 
huge placards of " Prix Fixe " inform you that they have a 
fixed price for their goods, which may mean, however, that it 
is " fixed " according to the customer and his anxiety to pur- 
chase. I myself had an experience in the purchase of a paii 
of ornaments. Inquiring the price, I was informed, " Eight 
francs." 

" Ah, indeed ! That is more than I care to pay." 

a For what price does monsieur expect to obtain such beau- 
tiiil articles?" 

"Six francs." 

" C'est impossible ! " {shrugging his shoulders and elevating 
his eyebrows)', "ici le prix est fixe:" but monsieur should 
have them for seven francs, as they had been taken from tho 
show-case. 

Monsieur was indifferent ; he " remercier'd " the shoj)keeper., 
he did not care to pay but six francs, and walked towards the 
door; but the salesman followed him, and, as he reached the 
threshold, presented monsieur the articles in question, neatly 
enveloped in one of his tissue paper shop-bills. It was posi- 
tively too cheap, but "pour obliger monsieur," he would give 
him this " bon marche " for the six francs. 

We paid the six francs accordingly; but our satisfaction 
respecting the "bon marche" was somewhat dampened at 
seeing the very self-same description of articles we had just 
purchased at six francs a pair displayed in a window, scarcely 
half a dozen stores distant, ticketed, in plain figures, three 
francs a pair. 

Passing along through one of the busiest streets of Paris 
one day, we observed the entrance or passage from the street 
to the lower story of one of the houses hung with black and 
decorated with funeral trappings ; in fact, the interior ar- 
ranged as a sort of little apartment, in the midst of which, 
exposed to full view to all passers by, stood a coffin, sur- 
rounded by candles, with crucifix at its head, and all the 
usual sombre emblems of mourning; pedestrians, as they 
passed, respectfully uncovered, and such exposition, we were 



A. POPULAR ERROR. 271 

told, is one of the customs in France when death occurs in a 
family. Funerals often take place at night, although we have 
met the funeral train during the day, when all who meet it, 
or whom it passes, remove their hats — a mark of respect 
which it is pleasant to observe, and which the newly-arrived 
tourist makes haste to record as one of the evidences of 
French breeding and politeness. 

When I was a boy, and studied first books of history and 
geography, there was in one of them a picture in which a 
Frenchman was represented as taking off his hat and making 
a ceremonious bow to a lady ; underneath, as part of the pleas- 
ing fable in which the youth were then, and may be, in 
many cases, to this day are instructed, was printed that the 
French were the most polite people in the world. If courtly 
speech, factitious conventionalities, and certain external forms 
constitute politeness, then the French are the most polite 
people ; but if 23oliteness embraces in its true definition, as 
I hold that it does, spontaneous unselfishness, refined gen- 
erosity, carrying kindliness into common acts, unselfishness 
into daily life, and a willingness to make some self-sacrifice 
for others, making itself felt more than seen — then there 
never was a more monstrous humbug than French "polite- 
ness." It is nothing more than a certain set of hypocritical 
forms, the thin, deceptive varnish which is substituted for the 
clear, solid crystal of hearty honesty. 

The Frenchman will raise his hat at a funeral, will " mille 
pardons, monsieur," if he accidentally jostles your elbow, bow 
gracefully to the dame du comptoir as he leaves a restaurant ; 
do these and a thousand graceful and pretty things that tend 
to exhibit himself, and, that cost nothing ; but how seldom does 
he perform an act that calls for the slightest self-sacrifice ! He 
never surrenders a good place that he holds for an inferior 
one to a lady, an aged person, or a stranger ; but he will, if 
possible, by some petty trick at an exhibition, a ieview, or 
public display, endeavor to obtain it from them for himself. 
The excess cf civility shown by the cringing and bowing 
shopman, with vertebrae as supple as if oiled or supplied with 



272 MORTUARY EMBLEMS. 

patent hinges in the middle, he expects to put into the price 
of the goods when he cheats you in your purchases. Attend- 
ance in sickness, and service at your hotel, are measured by 
the francs' worth, till at last, understanding the hollowness 
of French politeness, its hypocrisy and artificial nature, you 
long for less ceremony and more heart, and feel that there is 
much of the former, and little, if any, of the latter, in the 
Frenchman's code. 

Speaking of funerals naturally inclined us to turn our steps 
towards the celebrated cemetery of Pere Lachaise, which has 
suggested many of the rural cemeteries in our own country 
that in natural attractions now so far surpass it ; but Pere 
Lachaise cemetery, which was formerly an old Jesuit strong- 
bold, was first laid out in 1804, and now it is the largest 
burial-ground of Paris. It contains over twenty thousand 
tombs, besides innumerable graves, and occupies two hundred 
and twelve acres of undulating ground. Some of the older 
parts of it present a rusty and ill-kept appearance. Before 
reaching the entrance gate, we had indications of its proximity 
from the long street through which we passed being almost 
entirely filled on both sides with the workshops of marble 
and stone cutters, and funeral wreath manufacturers. Monu- 
ments of every conceivable design, size, and expense were 
displayed, from the elegant and elaborate group of statuary 
to the simple slab or the little one-franc plaster Agnus Dei, 
to mark the grave of the poor man's infant. There were 
quantities of shops for the sale of wreaths of immortelles, 
bouquets, and other decorations for graves, and scores of men 
and girls at work fashioning them into various designs, with 
mottoes varied for all degrees of grief, and for every relation. 
These are the touching ones : " To My Dear Mother," " My 
Dear Father," "My Sweet Infant," "To My Dear Sister;" 
and the friendly ones, " To My Uncle," " My Aunt," " My 
Friend;" or the sentimental ones, " Mon Cher Felix," "Ma 
Chere Marie," "Alphonsine," "Pierre," &c; besides bouquets 
of natural flowers, and vases for their reception, of every style, 
and graduated for every degree of grief and the lirnit of every 



PiERE LACHAISE. 273 

purse, raid you are beset by children offering pretty little 
bunches of violets' or bouquets and wreaths of natural flowers. 
Arrived at the gate, we were furnished with a guide, whom 
it is quite necessary to have, to save time in traversing the 
cemetery, and direct one to the monuments that one most 
wants to see of celebrated persons. 

Our guide was a retired old soldier, slightly lame, and still 
preserving a sort of military gait, as he stumped along in 
front of us ; but the combined perfume of the pipe he had 
learned to smoke while campaigning, and the garlic he loved 
to eat at home, caused him to be a companion that one would 
prefer occupying the "u indward side of. 

The older part of the cemetery of Pere Lachaise is very 
much crowded ; the tombs or vaults in some avenues stand 
as close together, comparatively, as the doors of blocks of 
houses in a city thoroughfare. Many of these vaults, facing 
the avenues, have open fronts, guarded only by a light, iron 
latticed gate, through which the visitor may look into a little 
square chapel, reached by a descent of three or four stejjs ; in 
this little chapel-vault stands a little altar, or shelf, on which 
is placed cross, wreaths, and vase or vases of flowers, this 
being the place of offering or prayer for the relatives, the in- 
terment being made below the slab in the floor or side. 

.These vault chapels are more or less pretentious, according 
to the wealth of the proprietors, some being fifteen or twenty 
feet square, with marble sides, flooring, and sculpture, beau- 
tiful altar, candles, vases, and handsome prie dien, while the 
names cut into the carved panels indicated what members 
of the family have been placed behind them in the narrow 
chamber for their last sleep. Garlands^ wreaths, and me- 
mentos are in every direction — within, about, and upon the 
graves and tombs; and in one department, where children 
were buried, upon the little graves, beneath small glass cases, 
rested some of the little toys — the dolls, and wooden soldiers, 
and little lattles — that had belonged to them when living 
We found, as we advanced, how much a guide was needed, 
for we should never have been able to ha"ve threaded unaided 
18 



274 MILLIONS IN MARBLE. 

the labyrinths or the winding cypress-shaded paths of thin 
crowded city of the dead. 

There were, we were informed, over eighteen thousand 
different monuments in the cemetery, ranging from the simple 
cross or slab to the costly mausoleum, such as is raised over 
the Countess Demidoff, — the most expensive and elaborate 
monument in the grounds, — which is reached by elegant 
flights of steps, and consists of a broad platform, supported 
by ten splendid white marble Doric columns, upon which 
rests a sarcophagus, bearing a sculptured cushion, with the 
arms and cornet of the deceased resting thereon. This mon- 
ument stands upon the brow of a hill, and occupies one of the 
most conspicuous positions in the cemetery. But let us follow 
our guide, taking a glance at a few of the notable features of 
the place ; for that is all one can do in a single visit and in the 
three hours' stroll which we make through the most attrac- 
tive parts. 

You can hardly walk a dozen steps without encountering 
tombs bearing names familiar and celebrated in military, 
scientific, religious, or literary history; and the opportunity 
one has to study the taste in monuments, obelisks, urns, 
mausoleums, pyramids, and sarcophagi, may be inferred from 
the fact, that upon these tributes to departed worth, and me- 
mentos of loved ones, no less than five millions sterling, or 
about twenty-five million dollars in gold, have been expended 
since the cemetery was first opened. The paths and walks 
of the old portion of Pere Lachaise are rougb, and in sad 
contrast with the newer part, and suffer much in comparison 
with the broad, spacious, well-rolled avenues of our own 
Mount Auburn and Forest Hills, or the natural and artificial 
beauties of Greenwood Cemetery. 

We first took a glance at the Jewish division of the 
grounds, which is separated from the rest by a wall, where 
the monument of Rachel, the celebrated actress, was pointed 
out to us, and also those bearing the name of Rothschild and 
Fould. We then walked to that most interesting monument, 
generally the first one of any note visited by tourists, an 



MILITARY CHIEFTAINS. 275 

actual tvidence and memento of the truth of that sad and 
romantic history which is embalmed in the memory of youth, 
the monument of Abelard and Heloise. This is a little open 
Gothic chapel, in which is the sarcophagus of Abelard, and 
upon it rcsis his effigy, and by his side that of Heloise. 

The monument is built from the ruins of Paraclete Abbey, 
of which Heloise was abbess, and its sculptured figures and 
deer rations are very beautiful, although suffering from decay 
ai.d neglect. A bunch or two of fresh violets and forget-me- 
nots, which we saw lying upon the breast of the recumbent 
figure, showed that sentimental visitors still paid tribute to 
this shrine of disappointed love. 

As we advanced farther into the grounds, monuments bear- 
ing well-known names, distinguished in science, literature, and 
art, met the eye on every side. Here is that of Arago, the 
astronomer ; Talma, the great actor of Napoleon's time ; Ber- 
nardin de St. Pierre, the author of Paul and Virginia ; David, 
the celebrated painter; Pradier, the great sculptor; Chopin, the 
musician; Scribe, the dramatist; Racine, the poet; Laplace, the 
astronomer; and Lafitte, the banker. Then we come to the 
names of some of those military chiefs that surrounded the 
great soldier of the first empire, and helped him to write the 
name of France in imperishable records upon the pages of 
history. 

Here rests Marshal Kellermann ; here rises a granite pyramid 
to Marshal Davoust, who won his laurels at Eylau, Fiiedland, 
and Auerstadt, the great cavalry action of Eckmuhl, and, ex- 
cept Ney, who was the most prominent in the tremendous bat- 
tle of Borodino, and the disastrous retreat from Russia ; here 
Suchet, who commenced his career with Napoleon at the 
siege of Toulon, sleeps beneath a white marble sarcophagus ; 
Macdonald and Lefebvre are here ; and a pyramid of white 
marble, bearing a bass-relief portrait, rises to the memory of 
General Massena, " a very obstinate man," and " the favorite 
child of victory" — him whom Napoleon once told, "You 
yourself are equivalent to six thousand men." Passing monu- 
ment after monument, bearing names the birthplaces of 



276 THTS BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE. 

whose titles were victorious battle-fields, we were guided 
by our conductor to a little square plat of ground enclosed 
by a light railing ; it was gay with many-hued flowers id lull 
bloom, filling the ah* with their fragrance. The old guide 
stopped, and reverently taking off his cap, turned to us, say- 
ing,— 

" Ho'/nmage, monsieur, a le plus brave des braves — a 
Marechal JVei/." 

I involuntarily followed his example. " But where," asked 
I, looking about on every side, " where is his monument ? " 

" His monument, monsieur," said the old fellow, drawing 
himself up as erect as possible, and dramatically placing his 
hand upon his left breast, — "his monument is the memory of 
his brave deeds, which will live forever in the hearts of the 
French people." 

Such a reply, coming from such a speaker, astonished me ; 
and I almost expected to see the staff change to a musket, 
the tattered cap into a high grenadier " bearskin," and the 
old blouse into the faced uniform of the Garde Imperiale / 
there was such a flavor of Napoleon Bonaparteism in the re- 
sponse, that that of the garlic was for the moment forgotten, 
and we considered the reply inci-eased the value of the speak- 
er's services to the extent of another franc. 

I stood, afterwards, opposite the spot where Marshal Ney, 
"the rear guard of the grand army" in the retreat from Russia, 
the last man who left Russian territory, " the bravest of the 
brave," was shot according to decree on the 7th of Decem- 
ber, 1815. It is a short distance form the south entrance of 
the gardens of the Palais du Luxembourg, and is marked by 
a bronze statue of the great marshal, who is represented in 
the attitude of leading his troops, sword in hand, as he did 
at the head of the Old Guard, after four horses had been shot 
under him, in the last charge on the disastrous field of Wa 
terloo. A marble pedestal is nearly covered with an enu- 
meration of the battles in which he distinguished himself 
Fie was indeed the " hero of a hundred battles." 

Passing through another path, we came to the monument 



TOMB OF BONAPARTE. 277 

of I lafontaine, surmounted by a life-size figure of a fox, sculp 
tured from black marble, the sides of the monument showing 
bronze bass-reliefs of the fable of the fox and stork, and 
wolf and lamb. Beranger, the poet, sleeps in the same tomb 
with Manuel, a French orator; and just before leaving the 
cemetery our guide pointed out to us a little cross over the 
grave of Judith Fr^re, who figures in the poet's songs as 

Lisette. 

" But first Lisette should here before me stand, 

So blithe, so lovely, in her fresh-trimmed bonnet; 
See, at the narrow window, how her hand 
Pins up her shawl, in place of curtain on it." 

But we might go on with a whole catalogue of noted monu- 
ments seen in this city of the dead, during our three hours' 
tour of it — an excursion which, notwithstanding its interest, 
was quite fatiguing. 

The magnificent tomb of Napoleon I., at the Church of the 
Invalides, contains the mortal remains of the great Corsican, 
placed here with much ceremony, carrying out the desire ex- 
pressed in his will that his ashes might rest upon the banks of 
the Seine, in the midst of the French people that he had loved 
so much. Through the great cupola of the church the light 
is admitted by means of colored glass, and so managed that 
it shall fall upon the high altar, the crypt, and sarcophagus 
with striking effect. The high altar is at the top of ten steps 
of pure white marble, and is of black marble ; great twisted 
columns of black and white marble support a canopy of white 
and gold, beneath which is a figure of the Saviour on the 
cross, upon which the sunlight, falling through yellow glass, 
lights up the golden rays that are represented as springing 
from the back of the crucifix into a blaze of glory, and flashes 
and sparkles upon the gilded canopy and decorations, as if 
glorifying the sacred emblems. 

Directly in the centre, and beneath the dome of the church, 
is a great circular opening thirty-six feet in diameter and 
twenty feet in depth ; this is the crypt, and surrounded by a 
marble rail. Looking down, you gaze upon the sarcophagus. 



278 GRAND EFFECTS. 

a huge block of red granite or porphyry, weighing one hun- 
dred and thirty-five thousand pounds, most beautifully pol 
ished, brought from Finland at a cost of thirty thousand 
dollars, covering another huge block twelve feet long by six 
in width, which in turn rests upon a splendid block of green 
granite, the whole forming a monument about fourteen feet 
high. The pavement of this circular crypt is a huge crown 
of laurels in green marble in a tessellated floor of white and 
black marble; within the laurels are inscribed Marengo, 
Austerlitz, Jena, Rivoli, Wagram, and other great victories, 
the whole pavement being a most exquisite piece of mosaic 
work ; around the circle stand twelve colossal statues, facing 
the tomb, representing victories. We descended to this crypt 
by passing to the rear, and beneath the high altar, where we 
found the entrance guarded by two huge caryatides bearing im- 
perial emblems ; passing the sarcophagus, we come to a chapel 
where is the sword of Austerlitz, groups of flags captured by 
the French in battle, and other mementos of the emperor. 

The elegant finish of the marble-work in the interior of the 
Church of the Invalides strikes one with astonishment ; its 
joining is so perfect as to be more like cabinet-making than 
masonry ; the light is so managed as to fall into the crypt 
through a bluish-purple glass, and striking ujDon the polished 
marble, as one looks down from above, gives the crypt the 
appearance of being filled with a delicate violet halo — a novel 
and indescribable effect. The marble of the monument, the 
sculpture, and decorations of the crypt, chapel, &c, cost one 
million eight hundred thousand dollars in gold — a costly 
mausoleum. 

The interior of the Invalides is circular, with arms of f\ 
cross extended north, south, east, and west. The great dome 
is a splendid piece of architecture, the summit of which is 
over three hundred feet from the pavement ; and high up in 
the cupola wo see a splendid picture representing our Saviour 
surrounded by saints and angels, which must be colossal in 
size to appear as they do of life-size from below. In chapels* 
in the angles formed by the cross, are other splendid monu- 



VERSAILLES. • 279 

ments to distinguished personages. In the Chapel of St. 
Augustin is the tomb of Napoleon's eldest brother, Joseph, 
King of Spain, a huge sarcophagus of black marble ; and not 
far from this is that of Vauban, the greatest of military en- 
gineers, also a sarcophagus of black marble, upon which rests 
an effigy of Vauban, surrounded by emblems, with two alle- 
gorical statues beside him. The monument of King Jerome 
is in the chapel dedicated to St. Jerome, and is a huge sort of 
black marble casket on gilt claw-feet, upon the top of which 
stands his statue. A monument to Marshal Turenne repre- 
sents him dying in the arms of some allegorical genius, with 
an eagle at his feet. 

Each of the chapels is dedicated to some saint, and richly 
decorated by frescoes representing scenes in his life; but 
chapels, monuments, and all, are, although splendid, of course 
insignificant compared with that of the emperor, resting be- 
neath the grand dome in the halo of colored light, before the 
grand altar, and around which the twelve colossi, with grasped 
swords and victorious wreaths, seem to be* keeping solemn 
watch and ward over the now silent dust of him 

" Whose greatness was no guard 
To bar Heaven's shaft " 

One can easily imagine that Louis XIV. nearly bankrupted 
the French nation in his magnificent expenditures on the 
palace and parks of Versailles, everything about them is upon 
such a prodigal and princely style. The vast halls of paint- 
ings, magnificent chapels, theatres, great gardens, statuary, 
hot-houses, parks, fountains, and artificial basins, the water to 
supply which was brought about four miles, the little park of 
twelve miles in extent, and great park of forty. When the 
visitor looks about him, he is amazed at the prodigal display 
of wealth on every side. He ceases to wonder that over two 
hundred millions of dollars have been expended upon this 
great permanent French exposition and historical museum of 
the French nation. 

Passing through the town, wc entered the Place d'Annes, 



2S0 INTERIOR OS THE PALACE. 

approaching the palace. This is a great open space eight 
hundred feet broad, from which we enter the grand court, or 
Cour d'Honneur, a space about four hundred feet wide, lead- 
ing up to the palace buildings, which are various, irregular, 
and splendid piles, ornamented with pavilions, plain, or dec- 
orated with Corinthian columns, and statues. In the centre 
of the upper part of this great court stands a colossal eques- 
trian statue of Louis XIV., and upon either side, as the vis- 
itor walks up, he observes fine marble statues of distinguished 
Frenchmen, such as Colbert, Jourdan, Massena, Conde, Riche- 
lieu, Bayard, &c. Entering the palace, which appears from 
this court a confused mass of buildings, one is overwhelmed 
with its vastness and magnificence. Some idea of the former 
may be obtained by passing through, and taking a survey of the 
western, or garden front, which is one continuous pile of build- 
ing a quarter of a mile in extent, elegantly adorned with richly- 
cut columns, statues, and porticos, and, when viewed from the 
park, with the broad, very broad flights of marble steps leading 
to it, adorned with vases, countless statues, ornamental balus- 
trades, &c, strikingly reminding one of the pictorial representa- 
tions he has seen of Solomon's Temple, or perhaps more strik 
ingly realizing what he may have pictured in his imagination 
to have been the real appearance of that wonderful edifice. 

The collection of pictures and statuary in the Historical 
Museum is so overwhelming, and the series of rooms appar- 
ently so interminable, that a single visit is inadequate to do 
more than give the visitor a sort of confused general idea of 
the whole. Guides, if desired, were furnished, who, at a 
charge of a franc an hour, will accompany a small party of 
visitors, and greatly facilitate their progress in making the 
best use of time, and in seeking out the most celebrated ob 
jects of interest. Attendants in livery were stationed at dif- 
ferent points through the buildings, to direct visitors and 
indicate the route. 

Here, in the great Historical Museum, are eleven spacious 
rooms, elegantly decorated, and containing pictures on his- 
torical subjects from the time of King Clovis to Louis XVI 



HALLS OF THE CRUSADES. 281 

Here is Charlemagne dictating his Code of Laws, Heniy IV. 
entering Paris, the Siege of Lille, Coronation of Louis XIV., 
and many other immense tableaux filled with figures, and of 
great detail. 

There are the Halls of the Crusades, five magnificent rooms 
in Gothic style, and forming a gallery of paintings illustrating 
those periods of history, and, of course, such events as French 
crusaders were most prominent in. The walls and ceilings 
are ornamented with armorial bearings and devices of French 
crusaders ; and in the wall of one of the rooms are the Gates 
of the Hospital of the Order of the Knights of St. John of 
Jerusalem, given to Prince de Joinville, by Sultan Mahmoud, 
in 1836. The great pictures of the desperate battles of the 
mall-clad warriors of the cross and the Saracens are given 
with graphic fidelity, the figures in the huge tableaux nearly 
or quite the size of life, and the hand-to-hand encounter of 
aword, cimeter, battle-axe, and mace, or the desperate strug- 
gles in the " imminent deadly breach," the fierce escalade, the 
terrific charge, or the desperate assault, represented with a 
force, vigor, and expression that almost make one's blood 
tingle to look upon them. Here was a magnificent picture 
representing a Procession of Crusaders round Jerusalem, an- 
other, by Delacroix, representing the Taking of Constanti- 
nople, Lariviere's Raising the Siege of Malta, and Raising the 
Siege of Rhodes, the Battle of Ascalon, Taking of Jerusalem, 
Taking of Antioch, Battle of Acre ; also the portraits of 
Jaques Molay, Hugh de Payens, De La Valette, and other 
grand commanders of the order. 

Another series of elegant halls, seven in number, had some 
magnificent colossal pictures of modern battles, such as the 
Battle of Alma, Storming of the Mamelon, the Return of the 
Army to Paris in 1859, and Horace Vernet's celebrated pic- 
ture of the Surprise of Abdel-Kader's Encampment, a moi?t 
spirited sj)ecimen of figure-painting. Then came a spirited; 
picture of the Storming of the Malakoff, Storming of Sebas- 
topol, Battles of Magenta, &c, and several fine battle-piecea 
by Horace Vernet. Then there are rooms with scenes io the- 



282 THE GRAND APARTMENTS. 

campaign in Morocco, whole galleries of statues, galleries of 
French admirals and generals, series after series of six, eight, 
or ten great apartments, each a gallery of itself. 

The " Grand Apartments," as they are called, occupy the 
whole of the central portion of the palace facing the gardens, 
and appear more like the creation of a magician, or of the 
genii of Aladdin's lamp, than the work of human hands. E ieb 
hall is given a name, and distinguished by the superb freecoe 
upon its ceiling, delineating scenes in which the deity for 
which it is called figures. The great Saloon of Hercules has 
scenes illustrating the deeds of Hercules, delineated upon its 
broad expanse of ceiling, sixty feet square ; the Hall of Abun- 
dance is illustrated with allegorical figures, and the Saloon of 
Venus is rich with cupids, roses, and the Goddess of Love ; 
then there are Saloons of Mars, of Mercitry, of Apollo, of the 
States General, all richly and most gorgeously decorated; 
but the grandest of all is the Grand Gallery of Louis XIV., 
the most magnificent hall in the world, and one which ex- 
tracts enthusiasm even from the most taciturn. 

This superb gallery connects with the Saloon of War and 
Saloon of Peace, and forms with them one grand continuous 
apartment. It is sometimes called the Gallery of Mirrors, 
from the great mirrors that line the wall upon one side. 
Fancy a superb hall, two hundred and thirty feet long, thirty- 
five wide, and forty-five high, with huge arched windows on 
one side, and magnificent mirrors on the other, with Corin- 
thian columns of red marble at the sides, and the great arched 
ceiling, the whole length elegantly painted with allegorical 
representations and tableaux of the battles of France ; statues, 
carvings, ornaments, furniture, aud decorations appropriate 
filling out the picture, the perspective view superb, and the 
whole effect grand and imposing ! 

It was here that Queen Victoria was received on her visit 
to Paris in 1855. Here, where, after the London Times and 
Rritish press had failed to write down the "prisoner of Ham," 
"the nephew of his uncle," "the ex-policeman," after Punch 
had ridiculed in every possible pictorial burlesque and shmdei 



GALLERY 0E THE EMPIRE. 283 

him whom that, print represented as a mere aspirant for the 
boots and cocked hat of his uncle, — it was here, beneath the 
blaze of countless candles, to the music of his imperial band, 
and in presence of the most celebrated personages of the 
French nation, that England's queen danced with — yes, actu- 
fually waltzed with — this nephew of his uncle. 

Opening out of these grand state apartments are various 
others, which, although beautiful in decoration, are dwarfed 
by the splendor of the great salons, though some are noted 
for historical events, such as Louis XIV.'s private cabinet, in 
which are his table and arm-chair ; the room in which Louis 
XV. died. We look upon superb vases, wonderful mechanical 
clocks, staircases that are wonders of architecture, and chefs 
d'oeuvre of execution in carving, graceful curve, and splendid 
sweep, till finally I find myself, note-book in hand, in a splen- 
did room, gazing upward at a ceiling upon which is a magnifi- 
cent picture, representing Jupiter, and some other gods and 
allegorical figures. It is a work of rare art. I refer to my 
guide, and find we arc gazing up at a picture by Paul Vero- 
nese, representing Jupiter punishing Crime, brought from the 
Hall of the Council of Ten, in Venice, by Napoleon I., and 
that we are standing in the bed-chamber of Louis XIV., and 
before the very couch, rich in decoration, and railed off from 
approach of the common herd, upon which he — though he 
may have been mighty and to be feared, may have reigned as 
a monarch and lived as a conqueror — yet, at last, died but as 

a man. 

" Dost thou lie so low? 
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils 
Shrunk to this little measure ? " 

The great Gallery of the Empire consists of fourteen large 
rooms, and in these are three hundred huge pictures of the 
battles and noted events that transpired during the time of 
Napoleon I., from 1796 to 1810 — a complete illustration of 
the life and times of the great emperor. The views of the 
battles are very spirited and interesting, and, with those in 
the Gallery of Battles, will be familiar to many from the 



284 GALLERY OF BATTLES. 

copijs that have been made of them, and the numerous occa- 
sions they have done duty in illustrated hooks. The Napo- 
leon Gallery, a volume of illustrations published by Bohn, of 
London, gives engravings of nearly all these beautiful tab- 
leaux. Here was the Battle of Marengo, Passage of the 
Alps, Horace Vernet's Battle of Wagram, and Battle of 
Friedland, and his picture of Napoleon addressing the 
Guards before the battle of Jena, Gerard's Battle of Auster- 
litz, Battle of Rivoli, — one vivid pictorial scene succeeding 
another, — Eckmuhl, Ratisbon, Essling, Rivoli, &g. This 
Gallery of Battles is also a notable hall, being nearly four 
hundred feet long, forty-two feet wide, and forty feet in 
height. The roof is vaulted, and lighted by skylights, which 
give a good light to the j)ictures, and the whole effect of the 
splendid gallery, which is richly decorated, set forth by orna- 
mental columns, with busts of distinguished generals inter- 
spersed at intervals, is very fine. In niches near the win- 
dows there is a sort of roll of honor — lists of names of 
generals and admirals who have fallen in battle, inscribed 
upon tablets of black marble. I must not forget the Hall of 
the Coronation, which contains David's great painting of the 
Coronation of Napoleon, for which the artist received the 
sum of one hundred thousand francs. In this hall is also the 
Distribution of the Eagles to the Legions, by the same artist, 
and the Battle of Aboukir. 

Behind the Gallery of Battles extends another gallery 
entirely devoted to statues and busts of distinguished per- 
sonages, from the year 1500 to 1800. This gallery is over 
three hundred feet in length. But even to attempt anything 
like a description of the numerous galleries, halls, and apart- 
ments in this vast structure, would be futile in the space that 
can be allowed in a tourist's sketches, and those /that we 
omit are nearly as extensive as those already mentioned 
There is a gallery of the admirals of France — fourteen 
rooms full of their portraits; a gallery of the kings ot 
France — seventy-one portraits — down to Louis Philippe 
gallery of Louis XIII. ; hall of the imperial family, with por 



THEATRE IN A PALACE. 285 

traits of tho Bonaparte family ; gallery of marine paintings ; 
a gallery of water colors, by French staff officers, of scenes 
in campaigns from 1796 to 1814; Marie Antoinette's private 
apartments, in which some of the furniture used by her still 
remains ; the cabinets of porcelains ; cabinets of medals ; 
saloon of clocks; great library; hall of the king's body 
guards, &c. The celebrated hall known as CEil de Boeuf, 
from its great oval window at one end, I viewed with some 
interest, as the hall where so many courtiers had fussed, and 
fumed, and waited the king's coming — regular French lobby- 
ists of old times ; and many a shrewd and deep-laid political 
scheme was concocted here. It is a superb saloon, and was 
Lotus XVI.'s and Marie Antoinette's public dining-hall. 

All these "galleries," it should be borne in mind, are 
really galleries worthy the name — vast in extent, elegant in 
decoration, and rich in pictures, busts, and statues. Then 
the splendid staircases by which some of them are reached 
are wonders of art. The great Staircase of the Princes is a 
beautiful piece of work, with pillars, sculptured ceiling, bass- 
reliefs, &c, and adorned with marble statues of Bonaparte, 
Louis XIV., and other great men. So also are the Marble 
Staircase, and the splendid Staircase of the Ambassadors. ] 
only mention these, each in themselves a sight to be seen, to 
give the reader some idea of the vastness of this palace, and 
the wealth of art it contains. 

Think of the luxuriousness of the monarch who provides 
himself with a fine opera-house or theatre, which he may 
visit at pleasure, without leaving his palace ! Yet here it is, 
a handsome theatre, with a stage seventy-five feet deep and 
sixty wide, a height of fifty feet, with its auditorium, seventy 
feet from curtain to boxes, and sixty feet wide. It is ele- 
gantly decorated with Ionic columns, crimson and gold. 
There are three rows of boxes, with ornamental balustrades, 
a profusion of mirrors and chandeliers, and the ceiling ele- 
gantly ornamented. The royal box occupies the centre of 
the middle row of boxes, and is richly decorated. On the 
occasion of the visit of Queen Victoria to Louis Napoleon, 



286 GARDENS AT VERSAILLES. 

this theatre was used as the supper-rooin, the pit being 
boarded over, and four hundred illustrious guests sat down 
to a splendid banquet. 

Not oiily have the means of amusement been thus pro- 
vided, but we find in this wonderful palace the royal chapel 
for royal worship of Him before whom all monarchs are as 
dust in the balance — a beautiful interior, one hundred and 
fourteen feet long by sixty wide, with nave, aisles, side gab 
ieries, and Corinthian columns, and its elegant ceiling, which 
is eighty-six feet from the richly-inlaid mosaic pavement, cov- 
ered with handsome paintings of sacred subjects by great 
artists. The high altar is magnificent, the organ one of the 
finest in France, and the side aisles contain seven elegant 
chapels, dedicated to as many saints, their altars rich in 
beautiful marbles, sculptures, bass-reliefs, and pictures — 
among the latter, a Last Supper, by Paul Veronese, the 
whole forming a superb chapel, glowing with beauty and art. 
In this chapel Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were mar- 
ried in 1770. 

Verily one gets a surfeit of splendor in passing through 
this vast historic pile of buildings. The limbs are weary 3 
while the eyes ache from the gazing at pictures, statues, per- 
spectives, and frescos, and it is a relief to go forth into the 
grand park and gardens, where fresh wonders await the vis- 
itor. Descending from the broad and spacious terrace, 
adorned by statues and vases, by flights of marble steps, the 
spectator is bewildered by the number and beauty of the 
fountains, statues, &c, that he encounters on every side ; but 
the very terrace itself is a wonder. Here are great bronze 
statues of Apollo, Bacchus, and other heathen gods. Two 
broad squares of water, surrounded by twenty-four splendid 
groups, in bronze, of nymphs and children, are in the midst 
of vast grass plots and walks, and among the statues we 
notice one of Napoleon I. From this broad terrace you 
descend to the gardens below, and other parts of the ground, 
by magnificent flights of broad steps. In the orangery or 
hot-house, orange trees, pomegranates, and a variety of curi- 



FOUNTAINS AT VERSAILLES. 287 

oufe plants are kept, many of which are transplanted about 
the grounds during the summer season. One old veteran of 
an orange tree, hooped with iron to preserve it, is shown, 
which is said to be over four hundred and thirty years old. 
The guide-books say it was planted by the wife of Charles III., 
King of Navarre, in 1421. Many other old trees of a hun- 
dred years of age are in the gardens. 

One great feature of the gardens at Versailles is the beauti 
ful fountains. The principal one is that known as the Basin 
of Neptune, which is a huge basin, surrounded by colossal 
figures of Neptune, Amphitrite, nymphs, tritons, and sea 
monsters, that spout jets-cFeaic into it. The Basin of Latona 
is a beautiful affair, consisting of five circular basins, rising 
one above another, surmounted by a group of Latona, Apollo, 
and Diana. All around the basins, upon slabs of marble, are 
huge frogs and tortoises, representing the metamorphosed 
peasants of Libya, who are supplying the goddess with water 
in liberal streams, which they spout in arching jets towards 
her. Then there is the great Basin of Apollo, with the god 
driving a chariot, surrounded by sea-gods and monsters, who 
are all doing spouting duty ; the Basin of Spring and Sum- 
mer ; Basin of the Dragon, where a huge lead representation 
of that monster is solemnly spouting in great streams from 
his mouth when the water is turned on. The Baths of 
Apollo is a grotto, in which the god is represented served by 
nymphs — seven graceful figures; while near him are the 
horses of the Sun, being watered by Tritons, all superbly exe- 
cuted in ma j hie. Sheets. and jets of water issue from every 
direction in this beautiful grotto, and form a lake at the foot 
of the rocks. This grotto is a very elaborate piece of work, 
and is said to have cost a million and a half of francs. 

Besides these beautiful and elaborate fountains are many 
others of lesser note, but still of beautiful design, at different 
points in the gardens and park. Parterres of beautiful 
flowers charm the eye, the elegant groves tempt the pedes- 
trian, and greensward, of thick and velvety texture and em- 
erald hue, stretches itself out like an artificial carpet. Here 



288 GREAT AND LITTLE TRIANON. 

is one that stretches the whole length between two of the 
great fountains, Latona and Apollo, and called the Green 
Carpet — one sheet of vivid green, set out with statues and 
marble vases along the walks that pass beside it; another 
beautiful one, of circular form, is called the Round Green. Here 
are beautiful gravel walks, artificial groves with charming 
alleys, thickets, green banks, and, in fact, a wealth of land- 
scape gardening, in which art is often made to so closely 
imitate nature, that it is difficult to determine where the one 
ceases and the other begins. 

A visit to the Great and Little Trianon is generally the 
wind-up of the visit to the pai-ks of Versailles: the former, 
it will be recollected, was the villa built in the park by Louis 
XIV. for Madame de Maintenon. It contains many elegant 
apartments. Among those which most attracted our atten- 
tion was the Hall of Malachite, and the Palace Gallery, the 
latter a hall one hundred and sixty feet long, ornamented 
with portraits, costly mosaic tables, and bronzes. Notwith- 
standing the eye has been sated with luxury in the palace, the 
visitor cannot but see that wealth has been poured out with 
a lavish hand on this villa ; its beautiful saloons, — Saloon of 
Music, Saloon of the Queen, Saloon of Mirrors, — its chapel 
and gardens, are all those befitting a royal palace ; for such 
indeed it was to Louis XIV., XV., and XVI., and even Na- 
poleon, who, at different times, made it their residence. 

The Little Trianon, built by Louis XV. for Madame Du 
Barry, is a small, two-story villa, with a handsome garden 
attached, at which I only took a hasty glance, and concluded by 
omitting to inspect the Museum of State Carriages, — where, 
I was told, Bonaparte's, Charles X.'s, and others were kept, — ■ 
the sedan chair of Marie Antoinette, and various curious 
harnesses. I was assured by another tourist, who learned a 
few days after that I had not seen it, that it was the finest 
thing in the whole palace. I have frequently found this to be 
the judgment of many travellers, of objects or points they 
have " done," which you have missed or omitted, and so I en- 
dured the loss of this sight with resignation. 



NOTRE DAME. 289 

But \V6 find that an attempt to give anything like a full de- 
scription of all we saw in Paris, — even those leading "lions" 
that all tourists describe, — would make us tarry in that gay 
capital too long for the patience of our readers who have fol- 
lowed us " over the ocean " thus far. The lover of travel, of 
variety, of architecture, of fashion, frivolity, or excitement may 
enjoy himself in Paris to the extent of his desire. There is 
plenty to occupy the attention of all who wish to enjoy them- 
selves, in a rational and profitable manner, in the mere seeing 
of sights that every one ought to see. There is the grand 
old cathedral of Notre Dame, famed in history and story, 
which has experienced rough usage at the hands of the fierce 
French mobs of different revolutions, who respect not his- 
torical relics, works of art, or even the sepulchres of the 
dead. 

The exterior of this magnificent great Gothic structure was 
familiar to me from the many engravings I had seen of it, 
with its two great square towers of over tw r o hundred feet in 
height, wi;h the huge rose window between them of thirty- 
six feet in diameter, and the three beautiful Gothic doors of 
entrance, rich in ornamentation, carvings, and statues of saints. 
The interior has that grand and impressive appearance that 
attaches to all these superb creations of the old cathedral 
builders. The vaulted arches, rising one above another, over 
a hundred feet in height, present a fine appearance, and a 
vista of Gothic columns stretches along its length, of three 
hundred and ninety feet; at the transept the width is one 
hundred and forty-four feet. The three great rose windows, 
which will not fail to challenge admiration, are wonders in 
their way, and, with their beautiful stained glass, are coeval 
with the foundation of the cathedral. 

We ascended the tower, and enjoyed the magnificent view 
of Paris from its summit, and, more particularly, the course 
of the River Seine and the splendid bridges that span it. Up 
here we saw the huge bells, and walked round amid them, 
recalling scenes in Victor Hugo's novel of the Hunchback of 
Notre Dame; these were the huge tocsins that Quasimodo 
19 



290 SAINTE CHAPELLE. 

swung, and far down below was the square in wliich La 
Esmeralda spread her little carpet, and summoned the cro w J, 
with tambourine, to witness her dancing goat ; farther away 
to the right, was the street that Captain Porteous rode from 
at the head of his troop ; here, upon the roof, sheeted with 
lead, must have been the place that the mishapen dwarf built 
the fire that turned the dull metal into a molten stream that 
poured destruction upon the heads of the mob that were bat- 
tering the portals below. With what an interest do the poet 
and novelist clothe these old monuments of the past ! Inter- 
twining them with the garlands of their imagination, they 
contend with history in investing them with attractions to 
the tourist. 

High up here, at the edge of the ramparts, are figures of 
demons, carved in stone, looking over the edge, which appear 
quite " little devils " from the pavement, but which are, in 
reality, of colossal size. The pure air of the heavens, as we 
walked around here near the clouds, was of a sudden charged 
with garlic, which nauseous perfume we discovered, on in- 
vestigation, arose from the hut of a custodian and his wife, who 
dwelt up here, hundreds of feet above the city, like birds in 
an eyrie, and defiled the air with their presence. 

One of the most gorgeous church interiors of Paris is that 
of Sainte Chapelle ; this building, although not very large, is 
a perfect gem of Gothic architecture, and most beautifully and 
perfectly finished in every part; it is one hundred and twenty 
feet long, forty wide, and has a spire of one hundred and 
forty feet in height. Every square inch of the interior is 
exquisitely painted and gilded in diamonds, lozenges, and 
fleurs-de-lis ; and stars spangle the arched roof, which is as 
blue as the heavens. The windows are filled with exquisite 
stained glass of the year 1248 — glass which escaped the ruin 
of the revolutions ; and the great rose window can only be 
likened to a magnificent flower of more than earthly beauty, 
as the light streams through its glorious coloring, where it 
rests above a beautiful Gothic balustrade. 

Leaving the Sainte Chapelle, we passed a few rods distant, 



THE MADELEINE. 291 

after turning a corner, the two old coffeepot-looking lowers 
of the bloody Conciergerie, where poor Marie Antoinette 
languished for seventy-six days, before she was led forth to 
execution; here also was where Ravaillac, Robespierre, and 
Charlotte Cord ay were imprisoned; and the very bloody 
record-book of the names of those who were ordered to be 
despatched during the revolution, kept by the human butchers 
who directed affairs, is still preserved, and shown to the 
visitor. 

That magnificent Grecian-looking temple, the Madeleine, 
is one of the first public buildings the tourist recognizes in 
Paris. As many Americans are apt to estimate the value of 
things by the money they cost, it may be of interest to state 
that this edifice cost two million six hundred thousand dol- 
lars. It is really a magnificent structure, with its thirty Co- 
rinthian columns, fifteen on each side, and its noble front, with 
ornamental pediment, its great bronze entrance, doors thirty- 
two feet high, reached by the broad flight of marble steps 
extending across the whole length of the end of the build- 
ing, the dimensions of which are three hundred and twenty- 
eight feet in length by one hundred and thirty-eight in 
breadth. The beautiful Corinthian columns, which, counting 
those at the ends, are fifty-two in number, are each fifty feet 
in height. The broad, open square about the Madeleine 
affords an excellent opportunity of viewing the exterior ; and 
one needs to make two or three detours about the building to 
obtain a correct idea of its magnitude and beauty. The in- 
terior is one si^acious hall, the floors and walls all solid mar- 
ble, beautifully decorated, and lighted from the top by domes ; 
all along the sides are chapels, dedicated to different saints., 
and decorated with elegant statues and paintings ; the high 
altar is rich in elegant sculpture, the principal group repre- 
senting, in marble, Mary Magdalene borne into Paradise by 
angels — exquisitely done. The whole effect of this beautiful 
interior, with its lofty ornamented domes and Corinthian pil- 
lars, the beautiful statuary and bass-reliefs, frescoing, and walls 
Incrustcd with rich marbles, is grand beyond description. 



295 THE PANTHEON. 

The Cluuuhof St. Genevieve, better known as the Pan 
theon, is another magnificent structure: three hundred and 
fifty feet long and two hundred and sixty wide is this beauti- 
ful building, and three rows of elegant Corinthian columns 
support its portico. We gazed up at the beautiful pediment, 
over this portico, which is over one hundred and twenty feet 
loug and twenty-two feet high, and contains a splendid group 
of statuary in relief, the central figure of which is fifteen feet 
in height; but above the whole building rises the majestic 
dome, two hundred and sixty-four feet. Inside we ascended 
into this grand and superb cupola, and, after making a por- 
tion of the ascent, paused in a circular gallery to have a view 
of the great painting which adorns the dome, representing 
St. Genevieve receiving homage from King Clovis. After go- 
ing as far above as possible, we descended with a party to the 
vaults below, where we were shown the place, in which the 
bodies of Mirabeau and Marat were deposited, and the tombs 
of Voltaire and Rousseau, which, however, do not contain 
the remains of the two philosophers. . We were then escorted 
by the guide, by the dim light of his lantern, to a certain 
gloomy part of the vaults, where there was .a most remark- 
able echo ; a clap of the hand reverberated almost like a pea 
of thunder, and a laugh sounded so like the exultation of some 
gigantic demon who had entrapped his victims here in his 
own terrible caverns, as to make us quite ready to follow 
the guide through the -winding passages back to the upper re- 
gions, and welcome the light of day. 

An American thinks his visit to Paris scarcely completed 
unless he has visited the Jardin Mabille. It has the reputa- 
tion of being a very wicked place, which, in some degree, ac- 
counts for tourists, whose dread of appearances at home re- 
strains them from going to naughty places, having an intense 
desire to visit it; and it is amusing to see some of these very 
proper persons, who would be shocked at the idea of going 
inside a theatre at home for fear of contamination, who are 
enjoying the spectacle presented here like forbidden fruit, 
quite confused at meeting among the throng their Mends 



LKS CHAMPS ELYSfcllS. 203 

from America who are in Paris, as is frequently the case. 
Sometimes the confusion is mutual, and then explanations 
of both parties exhibit a degree of equivocation that would 
rival a Japanese diplomat. Those, however, who expect to 
Bee any outi-ageous display of vice or immodesty will be dis- 
appointed : the garden is under the strict surveillance of the 
police, and there is a far more immodest display by the ladies 
in the boxes of the opera at the Grand Opera in London, than 
by the frail sisterhood at the Jardin. During the travelling 
season one meets plenty of tourists, English and American, 
at Mabille, and hears the English tongue spoken in the garden 
on every side of him. 

Stroll up the beautiful Champs Elysees of a summer's even- 
ing; all along, on either side, the groves, gardens, and grounds 
are brilliant with gas-jets, colored lights, and Chinese lanterns, 
brilliant cafes, with chairs and tables in front, where you may 
sit and enjoy a cup of coffee and a cigar, or a glass of wine, 
while you view the never-ending succession o^* passers by. 
Just off amid the trees are little extemporized theatres, where 
the never-tiring comedy of Punch and Judy is performed to 
admiring crowds, at two sous a head; little booths, with a 
gambling game, which, translated into English, is " the d — 
among the tailors," afford an opportunity of indulging in a 
game of chance for a few sous, which game consists in setting 
a brass top spinning in among a curious arrangement of brass 
fixed and movable upright pins upon a board; the number 
of pins knocked over, and little brass arches passed under, by 
the top, determines the amount of the prize Avon by the player, 
which can be selected from the knickknacks in the booth 
ticketed with prize cards. 

A friend of mine, a very proper young gentleman, was so 
attracted by the gyrations of the brass top spinning on these 
tables one evening, that he insisted upon stopping and trying 
his hand at the game: he did so, and so expertly that he bore> 
off a pair of cheap vases, a china dog, and a papei weight ; his 
triumph was somewhat dampened, however, at being reminded 
by a lady friend, whom he met with his hands filled with his 



29 t CAFfiS CHANTANTS. 

treasures, that he had been gambling on Sunday evening. It 
is not at all surprising, however, from the sights and scenes, 
that one should forget the character of the day, there is so 
little to remind him of it in Paris. 

Besides these booths are those for the sale of a variety of 
fanciful articles, illuminated penny peep shows ; and off at 
side streets you are directed, by letters in gas jets, to the Cafes 
Chantants — enclosed gardens with an illuminated pavilion 
at one end of them, its whole side open, exposing a stage, 
upon which sit the singers, handsomely dressed, who are to 
appear in the programme. The stage is beautifully illumi- 
nated with gas and very handsomely decorated, generally rep- 
resenting the interior of a beautiful drawing-room ; the audi- 
ence sit at tables in the garden immediately before the stage, 
which, from its raised position, affords a good view to all ; 
there is no charge for admission, but each visitor orders some- 
thing to the value of from half a franc to a franc and a half 
of the waiters, who are pretty sharp to see that everybody 
does order something. The trees are hung with colored 
lights, a good orchestra plays the accompaniment for the 
singers, besides waltzes, quadrilles, and galops, and the 
Frenchman sits and sips his claret or coffee, and smokes 
his cigar beneath the trees, and has an evening, to him, of 
infinite enjoyment. I saw, among the brilliant group that 
formed the corps of performers, seated upon the illuminated 
stage at one of these Cafes Chantants, a plump negro girl, 
whose low-necked and short-sleeved dress revealed the sable 
hue of her skin in striking contrast to her white and gold 
costume. She was evidently a dusky "star." 

But we will continue our walk up the beautiful Elysian 
Fields ; the great, broad carriage-way is thronged with voitures, 
with their different colored lights flitting hither and thither 
like elves on a revel: as seen in the distance up the illu- 
minated course they sparkled like a spangled pathway, clear 
away up to the huge dusky Arc d'Etoile, which in the dis- 
tance rises " like an exhalation." The little bowers, nooks, 
chairs and booths are all crowded; music reaches us from tho 



THE JARDIN MABILLE. '29t> 

Cafes Chautants, and peals of laughter at the performances in 
the raree-shows ; finally, reaching the Rond Point, a sort ol 
circular opening with six pretty fountains, — and turning a 
little to the left upon the Avenue Montaigne, the brilliant gas 
jets of the Jardin Mabille are in view — admission three francs 
for gentlemen, ladies free. 

The garden is prettily laid out with winding paths, flower- 
beds, fountains, cosy arbors, where refreshments may be 
ordered, and a tete-a-tete enjoyed, the trees bung with colored 
lights, artificial perspectives made by bits of painted scenery 
placed at the end of pretty walks; &c. In the centre is a 
brilliantly lighted stand, which is occupied by a fine orchestra, 
and upon the smooth flooring about it, within sound of the 
music, the dancers. The frequenters of Mabille are of the 
upper and middle class among the males, the females are 
generally lorettes, and the spectators largely composed of 
Americans and English. The leader of the orchestra dis- 
plays a large card bearing the name of each piece the or- 
chestra will perform, as "Galop," "Valse," "Quadrille," &c, 
before it commences, and it is the dance which is one of the 
great features of the place ; but this, which, a few years ago, 
used to be so novel, has been so robbed of its " naughtiness " 
by the outrageous displays of the ballet, and the indecencies 
of " White Fawn " and " Black Crook " dramas have left the 
Jardin Mabille so far in the background that even American 
ladies now venture there as spectators. 

The fact that the women at Mabille are lorettes, and that 
in dancing they frequently kick their feet to the height of 
their partners' heads, appears to be the leading attractive 
feature of the place. The style of dancing is a curiosity, 
however ; a quadrille of these women and their partners is a 
specimen of the saltatory art worth seeing. There is no slow, 
measured sliding and dawdling through the figure, as in our 
cotillons at home ; the dancers dance all over — feet, arms, 
muscles, head, body, and legs ; each quadrille, in which there 
are dancers of noted skill and agility, is surrounded by a 
niro.le of admiring spectators. The men, as they forward and 



296 DANCING AT MABILLE. 

back, and chasse, bend and writhe like eels, now stooping 
nearly to the floor, then rising with a bound into the air like 
a rubber ball: forward to partners, a fellow leans forward his 
head, and feigns to kiss the advancing siren, who, with a 
sudden movement, brings her foot up in the position just oc- 
cupied by his face, which is skilfully dodged by the fellow 
leaping backwards, agile as an ape; the men toss their arms, 
throw out their feet, describe arcs, circles, and sometimes a 
spry fellow turns a summersault in the dance. The girls 
gather up their long skirts to the knee with their hand, and 
are scarcely less active than their partners ; they bound for- 
ward, now and then kicking their boots, with white lacings, 
high into the air, sometimes performing the well-known trick 
of kicking off the hat of a gaping Englishman or American, 
who may be watching the dance. The waltz, polka, and 
galop are performed with a frantic fervor that makes even 
the spectator's head swim, and at its close the dancers repair 
to the tables to cool off with iced drinks, or a stroll in the 
garden walks. 

The proprietors of the Jardin Mabille, Closerie des Lilas, 
and similar places, generally have some few female dancers 
of more than usual gymnastic skill, and with some personal 
attraction, whom they employ as regular habitues of the 
gardens as attractions for strangers, more particularly green 
young Englishmen and Americans. This place, however^ is 
perfectly safe, being under strict surveillance of the police, 
and there is very rarely the least disturbance or rudeness ; 
the police see that the gardens are cleared, and the gas ex- 
tinguished, at midnight. Two nights in the week at the 
Jardin Mabille are fete nights, when a grand display of fire- 
works is added to the other attractions of the place. 

The Closerie des Lilas is a garden not so extensive as 
Mabille, frequented principally by students and their mistres- 
ses — admission one franc, ladies free. Here the dancing is a 
little more demonstrative, and the dresses are cut rather lower 
in the neck ; yet the costume and display of the person are 
modest in comparison with that in the spectacular pieces upon 



T£E LUXEMBOURG. 297 

the stage. The students go in for a jolly time, and have it, 
if dancing with all their might, waltzing like whirling der- 
vishes, and undulating through the Can-Can with abandon 
indescribable, constitute it. 

Of course Ave did not omit the Palace of the Luxembourg, 
witn its superb gallery of modern paintings, among which we 
noticed Delacroix' pictures of Dante and Virgil, and Massacre 
of Scio ; Oxen ploughing by Rosa Bonheur, and Hay Harvest 
by the same artist; Horace Vernet's Meeting of Raphael and' 
Michael Angelo, and Miiller's Calling the Roll of Victims to 
be guillotined, during the Reign of Terror. In this palace 
is also the Hall of the Senate, semicircular, about one hundred 
feet in diameter, elegantly decorated with statues, busts, and 
pictures, and the vaulted ceiling adorned with allegorical fres- 
coes. Here is also the Salle du Trone, or Throne Room, a 
magnificent saloon, elegantly frescoed, ornamented, and gilded. 
The throne itself is a large chair, elegantly upholstered, 
with the Napoleonic N displayed upon it, upon a raised dais, 
above which was a splendid canopy supported by caryatides. 
The walls of the saloon were adorned with elegant pictures, 
rep?-esenting Napoleon at the Invalides, Napoleon I. elected 
emperor, and Napoleon I. receiving the flags taken at Aus- 
terlitz. Other paintings, representing scenes in the emperor's 
life, are in a small apartment adjoining, called the Emperor's 
Cabinet. We then visited here the chamber of Marie de 
Medicis, which contains the arm-chair used at the coronation 
of Napoleon I., and paintings by Rubens. The latter were 
taken down, with some of the beautiful panelling, which is 
rich in exquisite scrolhwork, and concealed during the revolu- 
tion of 1789, and replaced again in 1817. 

The Garden of Plants, at Paris, is another of those very 
enjoyable places in Europe, in which the visitor luxuriates in 
gratifying his taste for botany, zoology, and mineralogy, and 
natural science. Here in this beautiful garden are spacious 
hot-houses and green-houses, with every variety ot rare plants, 
a botanical garden, galleries of botany, zoology, and mineral- 
ogy, and a great amphitheatre and laboratories for lectures. 



298 GARDEN OF PLANTS. 

which are free to all who desire to attend, grven by scientific 
and skilled lecturers, from April to October. The amphi- 
theatre for lectures will hold twelve hundred persons; 
and among the lectures on the list, which is posted up at it? 
entrance, and also at the entrance of the gardens, were the 
subjects of chemistry, geology, anatomy, physiology, botany 
and zoology. Many scientific men of celebrity received their 
education here, and the different museums are rich in rare 
specimens of their departments. The Zoological Museum 
has a fine collection of stuffed specimens of natural history, 
zoophites, birds, butterflies, large mammiferous animals, &c. 
The Geological Museum is admirably arranged — curious 
specimens from all parts of the world — - from mountains, 
waterfalls, volcanoes, mines, coral-reefs, and meteors, i. e., 
specimens from the earth below and the heavens above. The 
Botanical Department, besides its botanical specimens, has a 
museum of woods similar to that at Kew Gardens. A Cabi- 
net of Anatomy contains a collection of skeletons of animals, 
&c. The Zoological Garden is the most interesting and most 
frequented part of the grounds. The lions, tigers, bears, ele- 
phants, hyenas, and other beasts have spacious enclosures, as 
in the Zoological Gardens at London, though not so well ar- 
ranged, nor is the collection so extensive. The Palais des 
Singes (palace of monkeys), a circular building provided for 
these agile acrobats, is a most attractive resort, and always 
thronged with spectators. Parterres of flowers, handsome 
shade trees, shrubs, and curious plants adorn the grounds and 
border the winding Avalks and paths ; and the visitor cannot 
help being impressed that almost everything connected with 
natural science is represented here in this grand .garden and 
museum — plants, animals, fossils, minerals, curious collec 
tions, and library. A single visit scarcely suffices to view the 
menagerie, and many days would be required to examine the 
whole collection in different departments. 

St. Cloud! Even those who travel with a valet de place^ 
and cannot understand a word of French, seem to learn the 
pronunciation of this name, and to air their " song klew" with 



PALACE OF ST. CLOUD. 299 

much satisfaction. Through the splendid apartments of this 
palace — since our visit, alas ! destroyed by the invading Prus- 
sians — we strolled of a Sunday afternoon. There was the 
Saloon of Mars, Saloon of Diana, rich in magnificent fresco- 
ing, representing the gods and goddesses of heathen mythol- 
ogy upon the lofty ceilings ; the Gallery of Apollo, a vast and 
magnificently-decorated apartment, ceiling painted by Mi 
guard, with scenes in the life of Apollo, walls beautifully gilt 
and frescoed, hung with rare paintings, furnished with cabinets 
of elegant Sevres porcelain, rich and curious furniture, and 
costly bronzes. It was here, in this apartment, that Prince 
Napoleon, son of Jerome, was baptized by Pope Pius VII., in 
1805, and here the marriage of Napoleon I. and Maria Louisa 
was celebrated in 1810. Then we go on through the usual 
routine of grand apartments — Saloons of Minerva, Mercury, 
Aurora, Venus, &c. — rich in magnificent paintings, wondrous 
tapestry, elegant carving, and splendid decorations. Here 
are a suit of rooms that have been occupied by Marie Antoi- 
nette, the Empress Josephine, Marie Louise, Louis Philippe, 
and also by Louis Napoleon. Historical memories come 
thickly into the mind on visiting these places, and throw an 
additional chann about them. St. Cloud often figures in the 
history of the great Napoleon. That great soldier and his 
Guard, Cromwell-like, dispersed the Council of Five Hundred 
that held their sessions here in 1799, and was soon after made 
first consul. Farther back in history, here the monk assas- 
sinated Henry III., and it was here Louis XIV. and Louis 
XVI. often sojourned. 

The Cascade at St. Cloud is the object that figures most 
frequently in illustrated books and pictures, and the leading 
ittraction inquired for. It is in the grand park, and consists 
.>f a series of vast steps, at the top of which are huge foun- 
tains, which send the water down in great sheets, forming a 
succession of waterfalls, the sides of the steps ornamented 
with innumerable vases and shell-work. The water, after 
passing these steps, reaches a great semicircular basin, sur- 
rounded by jets cFeau, and from thence falls over other grand 



300 SUNDAY AMUSEMENTS. 

steps into a grand canal, two hundred and sixty feet long and 
ninet3 r wide ; dolphins spouting into it, fountains running over 
from vases, and spouting upright from the basin itself, and 
one huge waterspout near by sending up its aqueous shaft 
one hundred and forty feet into the air, the whole forming a 
sparkling spectacle in the sunlight of a summer afternoon. 

Every alternate Sunday in summer is a fete day here ; and 
on one of these occasions we saw fountains playing, merry- 
go-round horses, with children upon the horses, ten-pin alleys, 
in which the prizes were dolls, china ware, and macaroon 
cakes. Here was a figure of an open-mouthed giant, into 
which the visitor was invited to pitch three woo'den balls for 
two sous ; prizes, three ginger-snaps in case of success. The 
d — 1 among the tailors was in brisk operation ; a loud-voiced 
Frenchman invited spectators to throw leathern balls at some 
grotesque dolls that he had in a row astride of a cord, a sou 
only for three shots ; and prizes for knocking off the dolls, 
which were dressed to represent obnoxious personages, and 
duly labelled, were paid in pretty artificial flowers made of 
paper. Fortune-wheels could be whirled at half a franc a 
turn, the gifts on which that halted beneath the rod of the 
figure of the enchanter that stood above them belonged to 
the whirler. I heard a vigorous crowing, succeeded by a fel- 
low shouting, "Coq de village, tin sou! Coq de village, un 
sou, messieurs/" He had a huge basket filled with little 
shells, which were so prepared that, when blown upon, they 
gave a clever imitation of chanticleer. Fandangos carried 
their laughing groups up into the air and down again; in- 
clined planes, with self-running cars, gave curious rides ; and 
in one part of the grounds were shown booths of the old 
English fair kind. Before one, on a platform, a clown danced, 
and invited the public to enter, to the music of bass drum and 
horn; ponies, monkeys, trained dogs, and other performers 
were paraded, as an indication of what might be seen within ; 
pictorial representations of giants, fat women, and dwarfs 
were in front of others ; a sword-swallower took a mouthful 
Dr two by way of illustrating the appetite he would display 



SHOPS IN PABI8. 301 

for three sous ; and a red-hot iron taster, in suit of dirty red 
and white muslin, and gold spangles, passed a heated bai 
dangerously near his tongue, intimating that those who 
desired could, by the investment of a few coppers, have the 
rare privilege of witnessing his repast of red-hot iron. 
These, and scores of other cheap amusements, invited the 
attention of the thousands that thronged the park on that 
pleasant Sunday afternoon ; and among all the throng, which 
was composed principally of the common people, we saw not 
a single case of intoxication, and the trim-dressed officers of 
police, in dress coats, cocked hats, and swords, who sauntered 
here and there, had little to do, except, when a throng at 
some point became too dense, to open a passage, or cause 
some of the loungers to move on a little. 

The traveller who visits the splendid retail establishments 
in the Rue de la Paix or on the Boulevards, unattended, and 
purchases what suits his fancy, paying the price that the very 
supple and cringing salesmen choose to charge, or even goes 
into those magasins in which a conspicuously-displayed sign 
announces ikeprixjixe, will, after a little exj)erience, become 
perfectly amazed at the elasticity of French conscience, not 
to say the skill and brazen effrontery of French SAvindling. 

In four fifths of these great retail stores, the discovery that 
the purchaser is an American or an Englishman, and a stran. 
ger, is a signal for increasing the regular price of every arti- 
cle he desires to purchase; if he betrays his ignorance of the 
usual rate, palming off an inferior quality of goods, and ob- 
taining an advantage in every possible Avay, besides the legit- 
imate profit. It never seems to enter the heads of these 
smirking, supple-backed swindlers, that a reputation fur hon- 
esty and fair dealing is worth anything at all to their estab- 
lishments.. Possibly they argue that, as Paris is headquarters 
for shopping, buyers will come, willy-nilly ; or it may be that 
deception is so much a part of the Frenchman's nature, that 
it is a moral impossibility for him to get along without a 
certain amount of it. 

The priz, fixe* put up to indicate that the establishment has 



302 FRENCH SHOPKEEPERS. 

a fixed price, from which there is no abatement, after the 
style of the " one price " stores in America, very often has 
but little significance. A friend with whom I was shopping 
upon one occasion told the shop-keeper, whom he had offered 
fifteen or twenty per cent, less than his charge, and who 
pointed, with an expressive shrug, to the placard, that he was 
perfectly aware the price was fixed, as it generally was 
"fixed" all over Paris for every new customer. Monsieur 
was so charme with his repartee, that he obtained the arti- 
cle at the price he offered. 

One frequently sees costly articles, or some that have been 
veiy slightly worn, displayed in a shop window, ticketed at a 
low price, and marked X' Occasion, to signify that it is not a 
part of the regular stock, but has been left there for sale — 
is an " opportunity;" or intimating, perhaps, that it is sold by 
some needy party, who is anxious to raise the ready cash. 
Some of these opportunities are bargains, but the buyer must 
be on his guard that the " occasion " is not one that has been 
specially prepared to entrap the purchaser into taking a dam- 
aged article of high cost at a price beyond its real value. 

Although the French shop-keeper may use every artifice to 
make the buyer pay an exorbitant rate for his goods, the law 
is very stringent in certain branches of trade, and prevents 
one species of barefaced cheating that is continually prac- 
tised in New York, and has been for years, with no indica- 
tions that it will ever be abolished. 

In Paris — at least on the Boulevards and great retail 
marts — there are no mock auction shops, gift enterprise 
swindlers, bogus ticket agencies, or similar traps for the un- 
wary, which disgrace New York. Government makes quick 
work of any abuse of this kind, and the police abolish it and 
the proprietor so completely, that few dare try the experi- 
ment. Neither dare dealers in galvanized watches or imita- 
tion jewelry sell it for gold. They are compelled to display 
the word "imitation" conspicuously upon their shop front 
and window ; and really imitation jewelry is such an impor- 
tant article of txade, that as much skill is exhausted upon it 



PROTECTION OF THE PUBLIC. 30«J 

as in the real article, and dealers vie with each other m pro 
ducing splendid imitations, some of which are so good that 
a purchaser may, while the article is worn in its " newest 
gloss," make a display for ten francs that in the real article 
would cost as many hundreds. Neither are dealers allowed 
to sell berries by the "box," or peaches by the "crate;" nor 
are there any of the opportunities of America in making the 
" box " or the " crate " smaller, without deduction of price. 
Many kinds of fruit are sold by weight, and there appears to 
be a rigid inspection, that poor and damaged articles shall not 
be palmed off upon purchasers. When the government steps 
In to the regulation of trade, it does it so business-like, so 
thoroughly, promptly, and effectually, and places such an im- 
passable bar to imposture, that an American, even of the 
most spread-eagle description, cannot help acknowledging 
that there are some advantages in imperial rule, after all, 
He certainly feels a decided degree of confidence that the law 
will be enforced upon a ruffian or a pickpocket, that should 
be detected in any attempt to interfere with him, which he 
never can feel in the city of New York, and that the French 
police are always on hand, know and perform their duty 
without solicitation ; are efficient officers of the law, and not 
political roughs, rewarded with places, to be paid for with 
votes. 

There are many French articles that have a large sale m 
America, and which the traveller promises himself he will lay 
in a supply of, on visiting Paris, which he is quite surprised to 
find, on inquiry, are hardly ever called for by Parisians. Thus 
certain brands of kid gloves, and varieties of perfumery, that 
are very popular in America, can scarcely be found at the 
shops on the Boulevards. The best gloves, and those most, 
celebrated in Paris, which are really marvels of excellence in 
workmanship, are of a brand that cannot be found in the 
American shops, their high price affording too little margin 
for profit ; but scarce an American who visits Paris but sup- 
plies himself from the now well-known magasir* in Rue Riche- 
lieu. A friend, who thought to purchase at headquarter?, 



304 CONSULTING PURCHASERS' TASTES. 

sought in vain in Paris for the thick, yellow, and handsomely- 
stitched gloves he had seen in Regent Street, London, known 
as French dog-skin. Nothing of the kind could be found. 
They were made exclusively for the English market. 

But it really seems as if almost everything ever heard or 
thought of could be bought in the French capital, and made 
in any style, prepared in any form, and furnished with mar- 
vellous speed. There is one characteristic of the European 
shopmen, which I have before referred to, which is in agree- 
able contrast with many American dealers ; and that is, their 
willingness to make or alter an article to the purchaser's 
taste ; to sell you what you want, and not dispute, and try to 
force an article upon you which they argue you ought to 
have, instead of the one you call for. If a lady liked the 
sleeves of one cloak, and the body of another, she is informed 
that the change of sleeves shall instantly be made from one 
to the other. Does a gentleman order a pair of boots with 
twisted toes, the boot-maker only says, " Certainement, moiv- 
sieur" and takes his measure. The glover will give you any 
hue, in or out of the fashion, stitched with any colored silk, 
and gratify any erratic taste, without question, at twenty-four 
hours' notice. The ribbon-seller will show you an innumera- 
ble variety of gradations of the same hue, will ma^ch any- 
thing, and shows a skill in endeavoring to suit you exactly. 
In fiict, we presume that the foreign shopman accepts the 
situation, and is striving to be more a shopman than ever, 
instead of — as is too often the case in our own country — 
acting as though he merely held the position pro tempore, 
and was conferring an honor upon the purchaser by serv- 
ing him. 

Purchases may be made down to infinitesimal quantities, 
especially of articles of daily consumption; and where so 
many are making a grand display upon a small capital, as in 
Paris, it is necessary that every convenience should be 
afforded ; and it is. Living in apartments, one may obtain 
everything from the magasins within a stone's throw. He 
may order turkey and truffles, and a grand dinner, with 



ECONOMY VS. WASTE. 805 

eat fees, which will be furnished him at his lodgings, at any 
hour, from the neighboring restaurant, with dishes, table fur- 
niture, and servant ; or he may order the leg of a fowl, one 
pickle, and two sous' worth of salt and pepper. He can call 
in a porter, with a back-load of wood for a fire, or buy three 
or four sous' worth of fagots. But your true Frenchman, of 
limited means, utilizes everything. He argues, and very cor- 
rectly, that all he pays for belongs to him. So at the cafo 
you will see Mm carefully wrap the two or three lumps of 
sugar that remain, of those furnished him for his coffee, in a 
paper, and carry them away. They save the expense of the 
article for the morning cup at his lodgings. So if a cake or 
two, or biscuit, remain, he appropriates them as his right; 
and I have even seen one who went so far as to pocket two 
or three little wax matches that were brought to him with a 
cigar. Much has been said of how cheaply one can live in 
Paris. This would apply, with equal truthfulness, to many 
of our own cities, if people would live in the same way, and 
practise the same economy. This, however, is repugnant to 
the American, and, in some respects, mistaken idea of lib- 
erality. 

The absolute, unnecessary waste in an American gentle- 
man's kitchen would support two French families comfortably. 
In some it already supports three or four Irish ones. 

There are three ways of going shopping in Paris. The 
first is to start out by yourself, and seek out stores which 
may have the goods that you desire to purchase ; the sec- 
ond, to avail yourself of the services of a valet de place, or 
courier ; and the third, to employ the services of one of your 
banker's clerks, who is an expert, or those of a commission 
merchant. 

We have experimented in all three methods. In the first, 
you are sure to pay the extreme retail price. In the second, 
you are very likely to do the same, the only difference being 
that the courier gets a handsome douceur from the shop-keeper 
for introducing you, or, in other words, shares with him the 
extra amount of which you have been plundered. The latter 
20 



306 GOING SHOPPING IN PARIS. 

method is by far the best and most satisfactory to strangers 
unfamiliar with Paris and French customs. 

Stereoscopic views of Paris, which we were charged one 
franc apiece for on the Boulevards, were purchased of the 
manufacturer in his garret at three francs a dozen. Spec- 
tacles which cost five dollars a pair in Boston, ' and eight 
francs on the Boulevards, we bought for three francs a pair 
of the wholesale dealer. Gloves are sold at all sorts of 
prices, and are of all sorts of qualities, and the makers will 
make to measure any pattern or style to suit any sort of 
fancy. Jewelry we were taken to see in the quarter where 
it was made — up stairs, in back rooms, often in the same 
building where the artisan lived, where, there being no plate 
glass, grand store, and heavy expenses to pay, certain small 
articles of bijouterie could be purchased at a very low figure ; 
rich jewelry, diamonds, and precious stones were sold in 
quiet, massive rooms, up stairs, in buildings approachec] 
through a court-yard. 

For diamonds, you may be taken up stairs to a small, care- 
fully guarded inner room, dimly lighted, in which a black- 
veh et-covered table or counter, and two or three leather- 
covered chairs, give a decidedly funereal aspect to the place. 
An old, bent man, whose hooked nose and glittering eyes be- 
token him a Hebrew, waits upon your conductor, whom he 
greets as an old acquaintance. He adjusts the window 
shade so that the light falls directly upon the black counter 
(which is strikingly suggestive of being prepared to receive 
a coffin), or else pulls down the window-shade, and turns up 
the gas-light directly above the black pedestal, and then, from 
some inner safe or strong box, produces little packages of 
tissue paper, from which he displays the flashing gems upon 
the black velvet, shrewdly watching the effect, and the pur 
chaser's skill and judgment, and keeping back the most 
desirable stones until the last. 

Ladies' ready-made clothing may be bought in Paris as 
readily as gentlemen's can be in New York or Boston — gar- 
ments of great elegance, and of the most fashionable make 



a ladies' dress store. 307 

wnl tvhrming, such as full dress for evening party or ball, 
Aress for promenade, morning dress, and cloaks of the latest 
mode. These are* made, apparently, with all the care of 
" custom made " garments, certainly of just as rich silk, satin, 
and velvet, and a corps of workwomen appears to be always 
in attendance, to immediately adapt a dress or garment to 
the purchaser by alteration, to make it a perfect fit. In one 
of these large establishments for the sale of ladies' clothing 
were numerous small private drawing-rooms, each of which 
was occupied by different lady purchasers, who were making 
their selections of dresses, mantles, or cloaks, which wero 
being exhibited to them in almost endless variety. 

The saleswomen were aided by young women, evidently 
selected for their height and good figures, whose duty it was 
to continually whip on a dress or mantle, and promenade 
back and forth before the purchasers. By these shrewd 
manoeuvres, many a fat dowager or dumpy woman of wealth 
was induced to purchase an elegant garment, which, upon 
the lithe, undulating figure of a girl of twenty was a thing 
of grace and .beauty, thinking it would have the same effect 
upon herself. These model artists were adepts in the art of 
dress, and knew how to manage a dress trail in the most 
distingue style, wore a mantelet with a grace, and threw a 
glance over the shoulder of a new velvet cloak or mantle 
with an archness and naivete that straightway invested it 
with a charm that could never have been given to it had it 
been displayed upon a "dummy." As an illustration of the 
value of a reliable commissionaire's services at this first-class 
establishment, it is only necessary to state, that on our sec- 
ond visit, which was in his company, we found that a differ- 
ence of eighty to a hundred francs was made in our favor, on 
a six hundred franc costume, upon what was charged when 
we came as strangers, and alone. 

There are some magnificent India shawl stores in Paris, 
carried on by companies of great wealth, who have their 
agents and operatives constantly employed in India, and 
whose splendid warehouses are filled with a wealth of those 



308 BARGAINS. 

draperies that all women covet. In a room of one of tliese 
great shawl warehouses we saw retail dealers selecting and 
purchasing their supplies. Salesmen were supplied by assist- 
ants with different styles from the shelves, which were dis- 
played before the buyer upon a lay figure; and upon hi? 
displeasure or decision, it was immediately cast aside upon 
the floor, to be refolded and replaced by other assistants; 
which was so much more labor, however, than unfolding, that 
the floor was heaped with the rich merchandise. This so 
excited an American visitor, that she could not help exclaim- 
ing, " Only think of it ! Must it not be nice to stand knee- 
deep in Cashmere shawls ? " 

Many purchasers, who seek low prices and fair dealings, 
visit the establishment known as the " Bon Marche," rather 
out of the fashionable quarter of the city, and " the other 
side of the Seine." The proprietor of this place buys in big 
lots, and sells on the quick-sales-and-small-profits principle ; 
and his immense warehouse, which is filled with every species 
of dry goods, haberdashery, ribbons, clothing, gloves, gents' 
furnishing goods, and almost everything except groceries and 
medicines, is crammed with purchasers every day, whose 
voitures line the streets in the immediate vicinity. At this 
place bargains are often obtained in articles of ladies' dress, 
which may be a month past the season, and which are closed 
out at a low figure, to make room for the latest style ; and 
American ladies, who sometimes purchase in this manner, 
rejoice, on arrival in their own country, with that joy which 
woman only knows when she finds she has about the first 
article out of a new fashion, and that, too, bought at a 
bargain. 

It is a good plan for American tourists, who have any 
amount of purchases to make, to take a carriage by the hour, 
and the banker's clerk or commission merchant whom they 
engage to accompany them, and make a day of it. It will 
be found an economy of time, and to involve far less vexation 
and fatigue, than to attempt walking, or trusting to luck to 
find the articles desired. An American, on his first visit to 



G00D-BY TO PARIS. 30& 

Paris, finds so many things to attract and amuse him, and 
withal meets so many of his countrymen, all bent upon 
Laving a good time there, that he generally overstays the 
time he has allotted himself in the gay capital. Once there, 
in its whirl of pleasure and never-ending kaleidoscopic 
changes of attractions, amusements, and enjoyment, time 
flits by rapidly ; and when the day of departure comes, many 
a thoughtless tourist feels that he has not half seen Paris. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Good-bt to Paris, for we are on the road to Brussels, In a 
night express train, swiftly passing through Douai and Valen- 
ciennes, harassed, bothered, and pestered at Quievran, on 
the frontier, where our baggage was critically inspected. 
Through Valenciennes, which is suggestive of lace — so is 
Brussels — yes, we are getting into the lace country. But 
don't imagine, my inexperienced traveller, that the names of 
these cities are pronounced, or even spelled, in our country 
(as they ought to be) as they are by the natives. 

In Bruxelles we recognized Brussels easily enough; but 
who would ever have understood Malines to be what we 
denominate Mechlin, or have known when he reached Aix 
la Chapelle by the German conductor's bellowing out, 
" Aachen " ? And I could well excuse an American friend, 
some days after, when we reached Antwerp, who, on being 
told he was at Anvers, said, " Confound your Anvers. This 
must be the wrong train. I started for Antwerp." 

Why should not the names of foreign cities be spelled and 
pronounced, in English, as near like their real designation as 
possible ? There appears to be no rule. Some are, some are 
uot. Coin is not a great change from Cologne, but vhc 
would recognize Miinchen for Munich, or Wien for Vienna ? 



310 A UOG SHOW. 

We rattled through the streets of Brussels at early morn- 
ing, and, passing the great market square, saw a curious 
sight in the side streets contiguous, in the numerous dog- 
teams that the country people bring their produce to market 
with. Old dog Tray is pretty thoroughly utilized here ; for 
while the market square was a Babel of voices, from bare- 
headed and quaint-headdressed women, and curious-jacketed 
and breeched peasants, arranging then* greens, fruit, and 
vegetables, and clamoring with early purchasers, their teams, 
which filled the side streets, were taking a rest after their 
early journey from the country. There were stout mastiffs 
in little carts, harnessed complete, like horses, except blinders ; 
some rough fellows, of the " big yellow-dog " breed, tandem ; 
poor little curs, two abreast; small dogs, big dogs, smart 
dogs, and cur dogs, each attached to a miniature cart that 
would hold from two pecks to three bushels, according to the 
strength of the team; and they were standing, sitting, and 
lying in all the varieties of dog attitude — certainly a most 
comical sight. Some time afterwards, while travelling in the 
country, I met a fellow riding in one of these little wagons, 
drawn by two large dogs at quite a tolerable trot (dog trot), 
although they are generally used only to draw light burdens, 
to save the peasants' shoulders the load. 

From our windows at the Hotel de l'Europe we look out 
upon the Place Royale, in which stands the handsome eques- 
trian statue, in bronze, of that stout crusader, Godfrey de 
Bouillon, who, with the banner of the cross in one hand, and 
falchion aloft in the other, is, as he might have rode at 
the siege of Jerusalem, or at the battle of Ascalon, a spirited 
and martial figure, and familiar enough to us, from its repro- 
duction in little, for mantel clocks. We visited the celebrated 
Hotel de Ville, a magnificent old Gothic edifice, all points 
and sculptures, and its central tower shooting up three hun- 
dred and sixty-four feet in height. In front of it are two 
finely executed statues of Counts Egmont and Horn, the 
Duke of Alva's victims, who perished here. A short dis- 
tance froni here is a little statue known as the Manikin, a 



CURIOUS PICTORIAL EFFECTS. 311 

curious fountain which every one goes to see on account of 
the natural way it plays, and which on some fete clays sends 
forth red wine, which the common people flock in crowds to 
bear away, with much merriment at the source of supply. 

Besides a museum of paintings in Brussels, which con- 
tained several fine pictures by Rubens, we visited a gallery 
of somewhat remarkable and original pictures at the residence 
of an artist (now deceased) named Wiertz. The subjects 
chosen were singular, and so was the original ma'nner in 
which they were treated. One represented Napoleon in hell, 
surrounded by tormenting demons, with flitting visions of 
the horrors of war and carnage, and its victims upbraiding 
him ; another, a huge picture of a struggle of giants — giv- 
ing the best idea of giants possible, it seemed to me, out- 
side of the children's story-books. Another picture was so 
contrived that the spectator peeped through a half-open door, 
and was startled at beholding what he supposed to be a 
woman with but a single garment, gathered shrinkingly around 
her, and gazing at him from an opposite door, which she 
appeared to have just shrunk behind to avoid his intrusion 
— a most marvellous cheat. An apparently rough sketch of a 
huge frog, viewed through an aperture, became the portrait of 
a French general. The pictures of two beautiful girls open- 
ing a rude window, and presenting a flower, were so arranged 
that, whatever position the spectator took, they were still 
facing him, and holding out their floral offerings. An aper- 
ture, like that of a cosmorama, invited you to look through, 
when, lo! a group, clothed in arctic costume, and one more 
gi*otesque than the rest arrests you ; it is like a living face ; 
the eyes wink; it moves! You start back, and find that by 
some clever arrangement of a looking-glass, you yourself have 
been supplying the face of the figure. 

A little table, standing in the way, bears upon it an easel, 
some brushes, a red herring, and other incongruous things, 
which you suppose some careless visitors to have left, till you 
discover it is another of the artist's wonderful deceptions. I 
say wonderful, because his forte seems to have been some of 



312 CHUKCH OF ST. GUDTJLE. 

the most astonishing practical jokes with brash and color 
that can possibly be imagined. Some would absolutely cheat 
the spectator, although prepared for surprises, and excite as 
much laughter as a well-told story ; and others would have 
an opposite effect, and make his very hair almost stand erect 
with terror. One of the latter was that which represented a 
maniac mother, in a half-darkened room, cutting up one of 
her children with a butcher knife, and putting the remains 
into a pot boiling upon the fire. The spectator, who is held 
to this dreadful scene by a sort of terrible fascination, dis- 
covers that the wild woman thinks herself secure from obser- 
vation, froni the appearance of the apartment, the windows 
and even key-hole of which she has carefully covered, and 
that he himself is getting a view from an unobserved crevice. 
Although the subject is anything but a pleasant one, yet the 
rapid beating of the heart, the pallid countenance, and invol- 
untary shudder with which the spectator withdraws from the 
terrible spectacle, is a tribute to the artist's marvellous skill. 

Brussels is divided into two parts, the upper and lower 
city : the latter is crowded, and inhabited principally by the 
poorer and laboring classes, and contains many of the quaint 
old-fashioned Dutch-looking buildings of three centuries ago ; 
the upper part of the city, the abode of the richer classes, con- 
tains fine, large, open squares and streets, palace gardens, &c. 
In one of the latter we attended a very fine instrumental con- 
cert, given by the orchestra of the Grand Opera — admission 
ten cents ! and we found that we were now getting towards 
the country where good music was a drag, and we could get 
our fill at a very reasonable price, with the most agreeable 
surroundings. 

The most interesting church in Brussels ?s the splendid 
Cathedral of St. Gudule, founded in 1010, the principal won- 
ders of which are its magnificently-painted windows, — one an 
elaborate affair, representing the last judgment, the other 
various miracles and saints, — and the pulpit, which is a won 
drous work of the carver's art. Upon it is a group represent- 
ing the expulsion >f Adam and Eve from the garden of Eden: 



OFFICIAL CIRCUMLOCimOST. 313 

the pulpit itself is upheld by the tree of knowledge, and high 
above it stands the Virgin Mary, holding the infant Jesns, 
who is striking at the serpent's head with the cross. The tra- 
cery of the foliage, the carving of the figures, and ornamental 
work are beautifully chiselled, and very effectively managed. 

Having sent a trunk on before me to Brussels, I had an 
experience of the apparently utter disregard of time among 
Belgian custom-house officials; and, indeed, of that slow, 
methodical, won't-be-hurried, handed-down-from-our-ancestors 
way of transacting business, that drives an American almost 
to the verge of distraction. 

My experience was as folloAvs : First, application was made 
and description given ; next, I was sent to officer number two, 
who copied it all into a big book, kept me ten minutes, and 
charged me eight cents ; then I was sent to another clerk, 
who made out a fresh paper, kept the first, and consumed ten 
or fifteen minutes more ; then I was sent back, up stairs, to 
an official, for his signature — eight cents more — cheap auto- 
graphs ; then to another, who commenced to interrogate me 
as to name, where I was staying, my nationality, &c. ; when, 
in the very midst of his interrogations, the hour of twelve 
struck, and he pushed back the paper, with " Apres dejeuner, 
monsieur" shut his window-sash with a bang, and the whole 
custom-house was closed for one hour, in the very middle of 
the day, for the officials to go to lunch, or " dejeuner a la 
fourchette? 

Misery loves company. An irate Englishman, whose prog- 
ress was as suddenly checked as mine had been, paced up 
nnd down the corridor, swearing, in good round terms, that a 
man should have to wait a good hour for a change of linen, 
so that a parcel of cursed Dutchmen could fill themselves 
with beer and sausage. But remedy there was none till the 
lunch hour was passed, when the offices were reopened, and 
the wheels of business once more began their slow revolutions, 
ind our luggage was, with many formalities, withdrawn from 
government custody. 

« Whe \ you are on the continent don't quote Byron," said 



514 "THERE WAS A SOUND OF REVELRY." 

a friend fit parting, who had been 'over the ground;' "that 
. is, if possible to refrain ;" nnd, indeed, as all young ladies and 
gentlemen at some period of their lives have read the poet's 
magnificent romaunt of Childe Harold, the qualification which 
closed the injunction was significant. Can anybody that lias 
any spark of imagination or romance in his composition re- 
frain, as scene after scene, which the poet's glorious numbers 
have made familiar in his mind, presents itself in reality to 
his sight? We visit Brussels chiefly to see the field of 
Waterloo ; and as wo stand in the great square of Belgium's 
capital, we remember " the sound of revelry by night," and 
wonder how the streets looked when "then and there was 
hurrying to and fro," and we pictured to ourselves, as the 
moon poured down her silver light as we stood there, and 
flashed her beams upon the windows in the great Gothic 
structures, the sudden alarm when " bright the lamps shone 
o'er fair women and brave men," and how 

" the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; " 

and it all came back to me how I had sing-songed through 
extracts from Byron in my school readers when a boy, spouted 
the words of the Battle of Waterloo at school exhibitions, 
and sometimes wondered if I should ever visit that field 
where Bonaparte made his last grand struggle for the empire. 
Y"es, we should feel now the words of the poet as we ap- 
proached it — "Stop! for thy tread is on an empire's dust." 
And so I stood musing, and repeating the poet's lines, sotto 
voce, when an individual approached, and, touching his hat, 
interrupted my musings. 

" Waterloo to-morrow, sir ?" 

«Sir?" 

" Would you like to visit Waterloo to-morrow, sir ? Coach 
leaves at nine in the morning — English coach and six — 
spanking team — six horses." 



AN ENGLISH STAGE COaCH. 315 

We looked at this individual with some surprise, which he 
dissipated as follows : — 

"Beg pardon, sir — agent of the English coach company — 
always wait upon strangers, sir." 

We took outside tickets for the field of Waterloo on the 
English coach. 

The next morning dawned brightly, and at the appointed 
time a splendid English mail coach, with a spanking team of 
six grays, — just such a one as we have seen in English pic 
tures, with a driver handling the whip and ribbons in the most 
approved style, — dashed into the Place Royale, and, halting 
before a hotel at one end, the guard played " The Campbells 
are Comin' " upon a bugle, with a gusto that brought all the 
new arrivals to the windows ; three or four ladies and gentle- 
men mounted to the coach-roof, the driver cracked his whip, 
and whirled his team up to our hotel, while the uniformed 
guard played " The Bowld Soger Boy " under the very nose 
of old Godfrey de Bouillon ; and we clambered up to the out- 
side seats, of which there were twelve, to the inspiring notes 
of the bugle, which made the quiet old square echo with its 
martial strains. Away we rolled, the bugle playing its mer- 
riest of strains ; but when just clear of the city, our gay per- 
former descended, packed his instrument into a green baize 
bag, deserted, and trudged back, leaving us only the music of 
the rattling hoofs and wheels, and the more agreeable strains 
of laughter of half a dozen lively English and American ladies. 

The field of Waterloo is about twelve miles from Brussels ; 
the ride, of a pleasant day, behind a good team, a delightful 
one : we pass through the wood of Soignies, over a broad, 
smooth road, in excellent order, shaded by tall trees on eithei 
side — this was Byron's Ardennes. 

" Ardennes waves above them her green leaves." 

We soon reached the field, which has been so often described 
by historians, novelists, and letter-writers, that we will spare 
the reader the infliction. 
We are met by guides who speak French, German and 



316 MARCH OF THE OLD GUARD. 

English, who have bullets, buttons, and other relics said to 
have been picked up on the field, but which a waggish Eng 
lishman informed us were manufactured at a factory near by 
to supply the demand. The guides, old and young, adapt 
their sympathies to those of customers; thus, if they be Eng- 
lish, it is, — 

" Here is where the brave Wellington stood ; there is where 
we beat back the Old Guard." 

Or, if they be French or Americans, — 

"There is where the great Napoleon directed the battle. 
The Imperial Guard beat all before them to this point," &c. 

The field is an open, undulating plain, intersected by two 
or three broad roads ; monuments rise here and there, and 
conspicuous on the field, marking the thickest of the fight, 
rises the huge pyramidal earth-mound with the Belgian Lion 
upon its summit. 

We stroll from point to point noted in the terrible strug- 
gle. Here is one that every one pauses at longest ; it is a long, 
low ridge, where the guards lay that rose at Wellington's 
command, and poured their terrible tenrpest of lead into the 
bosoms of the Old Guard. We walk over the track of that 
devoted band of brave men, Avho marched over it with their 
whole front ranks melting before the terrific fire of the Eng' 
lish artillery like frost-work before the sun, grimly closing up 
and marching sternly on, receiving the fire of a battery in 
their bosoms, and then marching right on over gunners, guns, 
and all, like a prairie fire sweeping all before it — Ney, the 
bravest of the brave, four horses shot under him, his coat 
pierced with balls, on foot at their head, waving his sword on 
high, and encouraging them on, till they reach this spot, where 
the last terrible tempest beats them back, annihilated. Here, 
where so many went down in death, — 

" Eider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent," — 

now waved the tall yellow grain, and the red poppies that 
bloomed among it reminded us of the crimson tide that must 
have reddened the turf when it shook beneath the thunder 
of that terrible charge. 



FIELD OE WATERLOO. B17 

Let us pause at another noted spot ; it is where the English 
squares stood with such firmness that French artillery, lancers, 
and even the cuirassiers, who threw themselves forward like 
an iron avalanche, failed to break them. 

We come to the chateau of Hougounont, which sustained 
such a succession of desperate attacks. The battle began 
with the struggle for its possession, which only ended on the 
utter defeat of the French. The grounds of Hougoumont are 
partially surrounded by brick walls, which were loopholed 
for musketry. This place, at the time of the battle, was a 
gentleman's country-seat, with farm, out-buildings, walled 
garden, private chapel, &c, and the shattered ruins, which 
to this day remain, are the most interesting relics of the bat- 
tle ; the wall still presents its loopholes ; it is battered as with 
a tempest of musket balls. 

The French charged up to the very muzzles of the guns, 
and endeavored to wrest them from the hands of those who 
pushed them forth. 

Four companies of English held this place for seven hours 
against an assaulting army, and bullets were exhausted in 
vain against its wall-front, before which fifteen hundred men 
fell in less than an hour. 

There are breaches in the wall, cannon-shot fractures in 
the barn and gate ; the little chapel is scarred with bullets, 
fire, and axes, and a fragment of brick buildings looks like 
part of a battered fort. Victor Hugo's "Les Miseraliles" 
gives a most vivid and truthful description of this little por- 
tion of the battle-field, and of the desperate struggle and 
frightful scenes enacted there, serving the visitor far better 
than any of the guide-books. 

Passing from here, we go out into the orchard — scene of 
another deadly and dreadful contest. We are shown where 
various distinguished officers fell; we walk over the spots 
that Napoleon and Wellington occupied during the battle ; 
we go to the summit of the great mound upon which stands 
the Belgian Lion, and from it are pointed out the distant 
wood from which Wellington saw the welcome and fresh 



SI 8 BRUSSELS LACE= 

columns of Blucher emerge ; we pluck a little flower in Hou- 
goumont's garden, and a full and nearly ripened blade of 
grain from the spot where the Imperial Guard were hurled 
back by their English adversaries, pay our guide three francs 
each, aijd once more are bowling along back to Brussels. 

Near the field is a sort of museum of relics kept by a niecc- 
of Sergeant Major Cotton, who was in the battle, which con- 
tains many interesting and well-attested relics found upon 
the field years ago. There are rusty swords, that flashed in 
the June sunset of that terrible day, bayonets, uniform jack- 
ets and hats, buttons, cannon shot, and other field spoil, and 
withal books and photographs, which latter articles the vol- 
uble old lady in charge was anxious to dispose of. 

Just off the field, — at the village of Waterloo*, I think, — 
we halt at the house in which Wellington wrote his despatch 
announcing the victory. Here is preserved, under a glass case, 
the pencil with which he wrote that document. The boot of 
the Marquis of Anglesea, who suffered amputation of his leg 
here, is also preserved in like manner ; and in the garden is a 
little monument erected over his grace's limb, which is said 
to be buried there. 

Did we buy lace in Brussels ? Yes. 

And the great lace establishments there ? 

Well, there are few, if any, large lace shops for the sale of 
the article. Those are all in Paris, which is the great market 
for it. Then, it will be remembered that " Brussels lace " is not 
a very rare kind, and also that lace is an article of merchan- 
dise that is not bulky, and occupies but very little space. In 
many of the old cities on the continent, shopkeepers do not 
believe in. vast, splendid, and elegantly-decorated stores, as 
we do in America, especially those who have a reputation in 
specialties which causes purchasers to seek them out. 

Some of the most celebrated lace manufacturers in Brus- 
sels occupied buildings looking, for all the world, like a good 
old-fashioned Philadelphia mansion, with its broad steps and 
substantial front door, the latter having a large silver plate 
with the owner's name inscribed thereon. A good speci- 



A NOVICE AT LACE BUYING. 319 

men of these was that of Julie Everaert and sisters, on the 
Rue Royale, where, after ringing the front cloor bell, we were 
ushered by the servant into a sort of half front parlor, half 
shop, and two of the sisters, two stout, elderly Flemish ladies, 
in black silk dresses and lace caps, appeared to serve us. So 
polite, so quiet, well-dressed and lady-like, so like the mild- 
voiced, well-bred ladies of the old school, that are now only 
occasionally met in America, at the soiree and in the draw 
ing-room, and who seem always to be surrounded by a sort 
of halo of old-time ceremony and politeness, and to command 
a deference and courtesy by their very presence that we in- 
stinctively acknowledge — so like, that we began to fear we 
had made some mistake, until the elder and stouter of th e 
two, after the usual salutations, inquired in French if " ma- 
dame and monsieur would do them the honor to look at 
laces." 

Madame and Monsieur were agreeable, and chairs were ac- 
cordingly placed before a table, which was covered by a sort 
of black velvet comforter, or stuffed table-cloth, and behind 
which stood a tall fire-proof safe, which, being opened by the 
servant, displayed numerous drawers and compartments like to 
that of a jeweller. The lace dealer commenced an exhibition 
of the treasures of the iron casket, displaying them upon the 
black velvet with the skill of an expert, her quiet little ser- 
vant removing such as were least favorable in our eyes, when 
the table became crowded, and she went on, as each specimen 
was displayed, something as follows : — 

" Vingt francs, monsieur" (a neat little collar). 

" Cinquante francs, plus jolie " (I expressed admiration 
audibly). 

" Cent francs, madame" said the frau Julie, abandoning 
at once the addressing of her conversation to an individual 
who could be struck with the beaufy of a fifty franc strip '0 
lace. 

" Cent cinquante francs, madame, tres recherche? 

"Deux cent francs. Superbe, madame? 

" Quatre cent francs. Magnifique? 



320 ANTWERP. 

" Eighty dollars for that mess of spider's ;veb ! " exclaimed 
monsieur, in English, to his companion. " Eighty dollars ! 
The price is magnifique." 

" He is varee sheep for sush dentelles" says the old lady, in 
a quiet tone, much to monsieur's confusion at her under- 
standing the English tongue ; and the exhibition Trent on. 

How much we sacrificed at that black velvet altar I do not 
care to mention ; but, at any rate, we found on reaching 
America that the prices paid, compared with those asked at 
home, were " varee sheep for sush dentelles" 

Antwerp ! We must make a brief pause at this old com- 
mercial city on the Scheldt ; and as we ride through its streets, 
we see the quaint, solid, substantial buildings of olden times, 
their curious architecture giving a sort of Dutch artistic air 
to the scene, and reminding one of old paintings and theatri- 
cal scenery. One evidence of the commercial importance of 
Antwerp is seen in its splendid docks; these comprise the 
two docks built by Bonaparte when he made the port one of 
his naval arsenals, which are splendid specimens of masonry, 
the walls being five feet in thickness ; then the Belgian gov- 
ernment have recently- completed three new docks, which, in 
connection with the old ones, embrace an area of over fifty 
acres of water. We visited several of the dock-yards here, 
and were astonished at the vast heaps of merchandise they 
contained. Still further improvements that are being made 
seem to completely refute the assertion that all the commer- 
cial enterprise of Antwerp has departed. Here, for instance, 
were two new clocks in progress for timber and petroleum 
exclusively, which enclose seventeen acres of water, and here 
we saw literally enough of splendid timber for a navy. 1 
was actually staggered by the heaps of every kind of timber, 
from all parts of the world, that was piled up here, while the 
American petroleum was heaped up and stored in warehouses 
the size of a cathedral, suggesting the idea of a tremendous 
illumination should fire by any means get at it, which, how- 
ever, ii3 guarded against very strictly by dock-guards and 
police. 



THE CATHEDRAL SPIKE. 321 

Then there are three new and spacious dry docks, one of 
which is the largest in Europe, being nearly five hundred feet 
long, and capable of holding two ships at a time of one thou- 
sand tons register each. The splendid facilities for ships of 
every description, and for the landing and storage of merchan- 
dise, are such as cannot fail to excite admiration from every 
American merchant, and make him sigh for the time when we 
may have similar accommodations in the great seaports in 
this country. There were huge warehouses, formed by two 
blocks vii-a-vis, with a glass roof covering the intermediate 
space, and a double rail track running through it, affording 
opportunity of loading, unloading, and sorting merchandise 
in all weathers, while the depth of the " lazy old Scheldt," 
directly opposite the city, is sufficient for a ship drawing thir- 
ty-two feet of water to ride safely at anchor. 

The magnificent cathedral spire in Antwerp is familiar to 
almost everybody who looks into the windows of the print 
shops ; and we climbed far up into it, to its great colony of 
bells, that make the very tower reel with their chimes. Here, 
leaving the ladies, our motto was, Excelsior ; and we still went 
onward and upward, till, amid the wrought stone that seems 
the lace-work of the spire, Ave appeared to be almost swinging 
in the air, far above the earth, as in a gigantic net, and, al- 
though safely enclosed, yet the apertures and open-work were 
so frequent that our enthusiasm was not very expressive, 
however deeply it might have been felt at the splendid view, 
though our grasp at the balusters and stone-work was of the 
most tenacious character; and, in truth, the climbing of a 
spire of about four hundred feet high is an undertaking easier 
read about than practised. 

Inside the cathedral we saw Rubens's fine pictures of the 
Elevation and the Descent from the Cross, in which the fig- 
vu - es are given with such wonderful and faithful accuracy as 
to make the spectator sigh with pity at the painful spectacle. 

The interior of this splendid cathedral is grand and impos- 
ing ; but I have already, in these pages, employed so many 
adi°ctives in admiration of these grand old buildings, that I 
21 



322 MUSIC IN ANTVESP. 

fear repetition in the attempt to give anything more thau ilio 
dimensions which indicate its vast extent, which are five hun- 
dred feet long and two hundred and fifty wide. In front of 
this cathedral is an iron canopy, or specimen of iron railing- 
work, as we should call it; but it is of wrought iron, and by 
the hammer and skilful hand of Quentin Matsys. 

In the Church of St. Jacques, with its splendid interior, 
rich in beautiful carved marble and balustrades, we stood at 
the tomb of Rubens, who is buried here, and saw many more 
vi his pictures, among them his Holy Family. The house 
where he died is in a street named after him, and a statue of 
the artist graces the Place Verte. 

Antwerp rejoices in good musical entertainments. The 
most prominent and aristocratic of the musical societies is 
that known as the " Royal Society of Harmony of Antwerp," 
who own a beautiful garden, or park, at which their out-of- 
door concerts are given during the summer season. None 
but members of the society are admitted to these entertain 
ments, except visiting friends from other cities, and then onl) 
by approval of the committee of managers. 

The garden is quite extensive, and is beautifully laid out 
with walks beneath shady groves, rustic bridges over ponds 
and streams, gorgeous plats, and parterres of flowers. In the 
centre of the grounds rises an ornamental covered stand for 
the orchestra ; and round about, beneath the shade trees, sit 
such of the visitors who are not strolling about, eating ices, 
drinking light wine or beer, and indulging in pipes and cigars. 
A handsome pavilion affords accommodation in case of bad 
weather, and the expenses are defrayed by assessments upon 
the members of the society. 

After seeing the London Zoological Garden, others seem 
very much like it ; and that in Antwerp is nearest the London 
one, in the excellence of its arrangement and management, 
of any I have since visited. The collection is quite large, and 
very interesting. 

The cabs and hackney coaches in this old city are the most 
atrocious old wrecks we have ever seen, the hoi'ses apparently 



GETTING INTO A SEAE.L. 323 

on their last legs, and the drivers a seedy-looking set of fel- 
lows, most of "whom understand neither English, French, noi 
German, only Flemish; so that when a stranger calls a "vigi- 
lante," which is the title of these turnouts, it is well to have 
the assistance of a native, else the attempted excursion may 
end in an inextricable snarl of signs, phrases, and gesticula- 
tions, "full of sound and fury, and signifying nothing" to 
either party. 

I believe if an individual, who does not understand German 
or Flemish, can make the journey from Antwerp to Dussel 
dorf alone, he may be considered competent to travel all ove* 
Europe without a courier or interpreter. The conductors or 
guards of the train appeared to understand nothing but Ger- 
man and Flemish. The changes of cars were numerous and 
puzzling, and our " Chang >e-t-on de voiture icif n and "Ow est le 
convoi pour Dusseldorf?" were aired and exercised on a por- 
tion of the route to little purpose. Nevertheless, we did 
manage to blunder through safely and correctly, by dint of 
showing tickets, and being directed by signs and motions, and 
pushed by good-natured, stupid (?) officials from one train to 
another ; for we changed cars at Aerschot, then at Hasselt, 
then again at Maestricht, where we were compelled to leave 
the train, and have all small parcels examined by the custom- 
house officials ; then at Aix la Chapelle, or Aachen, as the 
Dutchmen call it, we had to submit to an examination of 
trunks, all passing in at one door of a large room and out al 
another, in an entirely opposite direction, and apparently direct- 
ly away from the train we had just left, to continue our jour- 
ney. I never shall forget the jargon of Dutch, French, and 
English, the confusion of wardrobes of different nationalities 
that were rudely exposed by the officers, the anathematizing 
of obstinate straps that would not come unbuckled, the turn- 
ing out of pockets to search for missing keys, and the hasty 
cramming back of the contents of trunks, — for the train Avas a 
few minutes late, — that imprinted the custom-house station of 
Aix la Chapelle like a disagreeable nightmare on my memory. 

At last we reached Ober Cassel, where we debarked, toot 



324 DUSSELDORF. 

seats in a drosky, as they call cabs here, the driver of which 
hailed us in French, which really sounded almost natural aftei 
the amount of guttural German we had experienced. 

Over the pontoon bridge that spans the Rhine, we rode 
towards Dusseldorf, whose lighted windows were reflected 
upon the dark, flowing stream ; and we were soon within the 
hospitable and comfortable hotel, denominated the Breiden- 
bacher Hof, where the servants spoke French and English, 
and we forgot the perplexities of the day in an excellent and 
well-served supper. 

Dusseldorf is one of those quiet, sleepy sort of towns where 
there is little or no excitement beyond music in the Hofgarten, 
or the Prussian soldiers who parade the streets ; it is the quiet 
and pleasant home of many accomplished artists, whose paint- 
ings and whose school of art are familiar to many in America, 
and it is often visited by American tourists for the purpose 
of purchasing pictures from the easels of its artists ; indeed, 
the guide-books dignify it with the title of the " Cradle of 
Rhenish Art." Americans visiting Dusseldorf find an effi- 
cient and able cicerone in Henry Lewis, Esq., the American 
consul, who, from his long residence there, and being him- 
self a Dusseldorf artist, and withal a member of their associ- 
ations, and having an intimate acquaintance with artists and 
artist life, is a gentleman eminently qualified to aid our coun- 
trymen in their purchases of pictures, which is done with a 
disinterestedness and courtesy that have won for him the 
warmest regards of Americans who have visited the place. 

To be sure, some Americans, with very queer ideas of pro 
priety in pictures, visit Dusseldorf, as they do other places 
in Europe, sometimes mortifying their countrymen by their 
absurd extravagances of conduct. At one of the artists' 
exhibitions a fine picture was pointed out to me, representing 
a cavalier who had just returned from the chase, and was seated 
in an old mediaeval hall. At one side, in the painting, was a 
representation of a fine, wide, high, old, ornamented chimney- 
piece. This picture attracted the attention of an Ameiican 
Hell-known in his native country as a proprietor of patent 



DUSSELDORF ARTISTS. 325 

medicines. He saw nothing in the rich costume and color- 
ing of the cavalier's dress, the fine interior of the old mediaeval 
mansion ; but he noticed that the mantel of the antique fire- 
place was empty. Lucky circumstance ! He proposed to pur- 
chase the picture of the artist on condition of an alteration, 
or rather addition, being made, which was the painting in of 
a bottle of the purchaser's celebrated syrup, with its label dis- 
tinctly visible, to be represented occupying one end of the 
mantel, and boxes of pills and ointment (labels visible) oc- 
cupying the other end. 

To his credit be it known, the artist absolutely refused to 
commit such an outrage, notwithstanding double price was 
offered him for "the job;" and the glories of Blank's pills 
continue to be painted in printer's ink, and not the artist's 
colors. 

Through the kind courtesy of Mr. Lewis, we were enabled 
to visit the studios of nearly all the leading artists of Dus- 
seldorf. "We saw the fine Swiss scenery of Lindler, the life- 
like, quaint old burghers and Dutch figures of Stammel, the 
heavy Dutch horses and the quiet, natural, rural, and road- 
side scenes of Hahn, and the sharp, bold style of figure-paint- 
ing of Stever, rich in color and striking in expression — an 
artist whose pictures, in the exhibition, always have a group 
of spectators about them; and then we saw Lewis's own 
clever landscapes and Swiss mountain scenes, and finally 
went off to the Dusseldorf gallery, where we saw a host of 
original sketches and drawings by the most celebrated artists 
of all schools. 

One thing newly-arrived Americans quickly learn here, 
as well as in Rome and Florence; and that is, that good 
pictures command good prices : they may be obtained at a 
lower figure than at home, yet they are by no means sacrificed 
for a song. The facilities of travel are now so great, and 
Americans and English with money to spend do so pervade 
the continent, that the opportunities of obtaining really 
meritorious works of art at a very low price in Europe are 
decreasing every day. 



326 COLOGNE. 

The Prussian soldiery are seen everywhere in Dusseldori; 
they arc a fine, intellectual-looking set of men, not very tall, 
but splendidly drilled. A regiment that I have seen pass, 
with its magnificent military band at its head, was so exact 
in the perpendicular of the muskets carried by the men, that 
I verily believe a plank might have been laid upon the points 
of the upright bayonets, and it would have been found a true 
level. 

The band in the Hofgarten plays the Strauss waltzes de- 
liriously. The shady walks, the flower-beds, the pretty vases 
and fountains, are enchantingly soothing and romantic on a 
summer's evening, under the influence of music, Rhine wine 
or lager. But we must bid adieu to old Dusseldorf, which 
we learn, with some surprise, as we turn our back upon it for 
the city of perfumes (Cologne), to be a town of fifty thous- 
and inhabitants — a fact one would never dream of, from its 
lack of that bustling spirit that characterizes an American 
town or city of that population. 

Now for the " castle-crowned Rhine." "We leave Dussel- 
dorf behind, and as the steamboat journey from here is a 
somewhat dull and uninteresting one, there being no features 
of natural beauty on the river between the two points, we 
rattle down by Cologne and Minden Railway in about an hour 
and a half, and quarter at the fine Hotel du Nord, at Cologne, 
near the railway bridge, which is all of a bustle on account 
of the arrival of the King of Sweden and suite ; and some of 
the blue-eyed, golden-haired blondes of that " suite " we had 
the pleasure of meeting occasionally, as we passed in or out, 
would have been " all the rage " in America, could they have 
been transplanted to that country. 

Cologne, the oldest town on the Rhine, is built with long, 
winding, semicircular, narrow streets, along the river. It is 
now the capital of Rhenish Prussia, and appears to be a 
strongly fortified place, being surrounded by strong, high 
walls. A bridge of boats and a stone bridge span the Rhine 
from Cologne to a little town called Deatz, opposite, and 
the city seems to have considerable business activity. Be* 



COLOGNE CATHEDRAL. 827 

fore one ev«r sees the city, his impressions are, that its chief 
article of commerce and manufacture is cologne water ; and 
that impression is strengthened on arrival, for about every 
other store, especially those in the square about the cathe- 
dral, claims to be " the original Jean Antoine Marie Farina." 
The competition in this matter is ridiculous, and even laugh- 
able ; End the Farinas are so numei*ous, and opinion is so 
divided respecting the original, that it is said if you purchase 
of either one you will wish you had bought of another. 

The cathedral at Cologne, grand and majestic in its pro- 
portions, rich in ornament, and considered among lovers of 
architecture a masterpiece among existing Gothic buildings, 
was commenced in 1248, and, though more than six centuries 
have passed, is still unfinished, and the name of the architect 
who planned the original designs of the structure unknown 
to the world. 

The sight of this great cathedral, that has been in process 
of construction for so many centuries, sometimes nearly aban- 
doned to ruin, and then again carried forward by builders 
with new zeal, till at last the original designs were forgotten, 
and men proceeded to work on at an apparently endless task, 
— the style of work here and there marking the age in which 
it was wrought, — was strikingly suggestive of the vanity 
of human aspirations. It also brought to mind that almost 
forgotten old German legend respecting a compact between 
the original architect of this cathedral, I think, and his Satanic 
Majesty, in which the former some way outwitted the latter, 
who, in revenge, caused him to be killed by a fall from the 
tower bearing the well-known derrick so familiar in all the 
pictures on the cologne-bottle labels. His Sulphuric Pligh- 
ness, in the story, also vowed that the edifice should never be 
completed, and that the architect's name should be forgotten 
by men. 

The fiendish promise appears to have been faithfully kept, 
although, on the other hand, it is averred by some American 
travellers that the building is kept unfinished to extract con- 
tributions from the faithful to complete it, and thereby fur 



828 VAST EXPENDITURE. 

nish builders, workmen, and contractors with work ; indeed, a 
New York man was struck with the bright idea that it would 
be to get the Prussian government to undertake it, and let 
the job out to contractors, and he knew that the builders of 
the new City Hall in New York would undertake it, and 
spend time and money enough over it, and in a manner that 
would astonish the old church builders of Europe. 

The cathedral stands on a slight elevation, some fifty or 
sixty feet abo\ e the Rhine, upon a portion of the oL I Roman 
campground, where the soldiers of Agrippina, the mother of 
Nero, rested after war's alarms, and watched the flow of the 
winding river at their feet. Countless sums of money have 
been lavished upon the building, and centuries of labor. 
Guilty monarchs, and men whose hearts have reeked with 
sin, have bestowed wealth upon it, in the hope to buy absolu- 
tion for their crimes with the same dross that had purchased 
so many of the world's coveted pleasures. In 1816, forty- 
eight thousand pounds were expended on it, and between 
1842 and 1864 over three hundred thousand pounds were laid 
out. The great southern portal, which is two hundred and 
twenty feet high, cost alone one hundred and five thousand 
pounds. Some idea of the vastness of the cathedral may be 
had from the figures representing its dimensions. The inte- 
rior is four hundred and thirty feet long and one hundred and 
forty broad ; the transept two hundred and thirty-four feet 
long, and the choir one hundred and forty feet in height. The 
part which is appropriated for divine service occupies an area 
of seventy thousand square feet. 

We strolled round this stupendous old building, and after 
shaking off the guides and valets de place, who proffered their 
services, the agents of cologne-water houses in the vicinity, 
and the vender* of books, stereoscopic views and pictures of 
it, and even a monkish old fellow who came out of one of the 
side doors, and rattled a money-box for subscriptions for the 
workmen, proceeded to have a look at it in our own way. 
There stood out the old derrick, or crane, an iron arm fifty 
f cet long, that has projected from one of the towers, which is 



WONDERS OF THE BUILDING. 329 

one hundred and ninety feet high, for four hundrel year? 
probably hi waiting to assist in completing the remaining two 
hundred and eighty-six feet, the projected height being four 
hundred and seventy-six. The Gothic arches, canopies, but- 
tresses, and tracery, with statues of the apostles and saints, 
are bewildering in detail and number. In one ornamental 
arch is a relief containing no less than seventy different fig- 
ures, and another has fifty-eight small canopies wrought in it. 
In fact, the building seems to be a monument of stone-cutters' 
skill, as well as an exemplification of the detail of Gothic 
architecture ; and you may mark that which is crumbling to 
decay beneath the unsjsaring tooth of time, and on the same 
edifice that which, sharp and fresh, but yesterday left the 
sculptor's chisel; and so the work goes on. The central tower 
and iron frame-work of the roof of the body of the church 
and transept were only completed in 1861, and the interior of 
the church since 1863, that is, if the interior can be said ever 
to be completed, with workmen continually finishing it. 

To get inside we find that a series of tickets must be pur- 
chased of the custodian who guards the entrance at the tran- 
sept. These paid for, wo proceeded, under the pilotage of a 
good-natured, though not over-clean churchman, to the various 
points of interest in the vast interior. We had the same 
beautiful view of Gothic arches and cluster pillars that form 
60 grand a perspective in these cathedrals. We counted fifty- 
six pillars in all. Those of the nave were one hundred and 
six feet in height, and of the side aisles forty-five. The seven 
chapels are rich in pictures, decorated altars, and relics. The 
most celebrated is that known as the Chapel of the Three 
Magi, in which was a gorgeous crystal casket, protected by a 
cover richly ornamented and set with precious stones. When 
tins was reverently removed, we beheld the tops of three hu- 
man skulls, circled with golden crowns, which our conductor 
gravely informed us were the skulls of Caspar, Melchoir, and 
Balthazar, the Three Magi; or Wise Men of the East, who 
figured at the adoration of our Saviour. 

One can hardly reprc«s a smile at such assertions, made in 



330 RICHES OF THE CHURCH. 

the nineteenth century, by a man who has had the advan- 
tages of education, as our priestly guide evidently had ; biK 
the serious manner in which he imparted his information, and 
to our doubting comments pointed to the names set in rubies, 
and assured us thai the relics were presented in the twelfth 
century by the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, and that he hud 
not tune now to question historical facts, disposed of the sub- 
ject in our case. So, at the Church of St. Ursula here, where 
the bones of eleven thousand virgins (!), who were murdered 
in Cologne on their return from a pilgrimage to Rome, are 
shown. The unbelieving Thomases of the Protestant faith 
try the patience of the pious custodian sadly by their irrever- 
ent questions and disrespectful remarks. 

In the great sacristy and ti*easury of the cathedral we 
saw a rich collection of magnificent vestments for priests, 
bishops, and other church officials, costly gold and silver 
chalices, cruets, fonts, goblets, church vessels, &c. Among 
these were several splendid " monstrances," or a sort of frame- 
work, in which the consecrated wafer, or host, is held up to 
view before the congregation in Roman Catholic churches. 
One of these was of silver, weighing eight pounds and a haif, 
adorned with rubies and diamonds, with a superb diamond 
cross hanging from it, and around it a collar of turquoises, 
amethysts, and sapphires ; there was another of solid silver, 
much heavier, the gift of Pope Pius IX., and still a third, 
which far outshone all the rest in magnificence. This last 
was a foot and a half in height, was of solid gold, and weighed 
ten pounds and two ounces ; it was studded with large jewels, 
and the gold beautifully enamelled. The cylindrical space for 
enclosing the host measured four and a half inches in diame- 
ter, and is cut out of a piece of mountain crystal. The value 
of this monstrance is immense, and it is only used on great 
holidays, and carried in procession but once a year — Corpus 
Christi, the next Thursday after Trinity Sunday. 

The cabinets in this treasury were rich indeed with mate- 
rial wealth of the cathedral; and our priestly guide took a 
pride in displaying it, furnishing me many facts for my note- 



THE LABOR OF CENTURIES. 831 

book not down in the guide-books, and anxious that we should 
have a correct idea of the wealth of the Church. Two splen- 
did silver censers, weighing nine pounds each, were shown 
us ; next came a great crucifix of polished ebony and silver, a 
gold and enamelled flower set with precious stones, an en- 
amelled painting of the Crucifixion surrounded by diamonds, 
rubies, and pearls, a cross and ring worn by the archbishop at 
every pontifical service, magnificent ornaments set with dia- 
monds and pearls, and valued at twenty-five hundred pounds 
sterling ; then there were splendid reliquaries, richly set with 
jewels, some said to contain portions of the true cross; splen- 
did crosiers, one of ivory and crystal, of ancient workman- 
ship ; crosses, silver busts, carved ivory figures, and the splen- 
did silver shrine of St. Engelbert, weighing one hundred and 
forty-nine pounds, and adorned with bass-reliefs and numerous 
small statuettes — a most valuable piece of plate, and curious 
svork of art, made in the year 1635. 

From this rich storehouse of gold, silver, and jewels we 
passed out once more into the body of the cathedral, where 
ragged women or poverty-stricken men, with hunger in their 
cheeks, knelt on the pavement to tell a string of beads, or 
mutter a prayer or two, and then rise and follow us into the 
street to beg a few groschen, or, as we passed, to be solicited 
by an individual, who had charge of a rattling money-box, for 
a contribution towards the completion of the church. 

Nearly two hundred workmen are at work upon the Co- 
logne Cathedral, renewing that which has crumbled from de- 
cay and time, and completing that which is still unfinished. 
A good idea of its magnitude can be obtained by a tour of 
the galleries. Access is had to these by a flight of steps in 
one of the great pillars. One hundred and one steps — I 
counted them as we went up — carry the visitor to a gallery 
which extends across the transept. Up thirty-six steps more, 
and you reach another gallery running around the whole 
building, in a tour of which you may study the details of tbe 
architecture, and also have a fine view of the town, and a 
beautiful one of the Rhine, and the lovely surrounding land- 
scape. 



B32 EOOF OF THE CATHEDEAI,. 

There is a gallery corresponding to this on the interior of 
the building, which affords the visitor an equally good oppor 
tunity to observe the interior decorations and architectural 
features. You mount ninety-eight steps more, and reach a 
third gallery, which runs around the entire roof of the 
cathedral, a distance of sixteen hundred feet. Here the 
panorama is more extended and beautiful. You see the river 
winding on its course far in the distance. Below are the 
semicircular streets, the bridges of stone and of boats, the 
numerous little water craft dotting the stream, and on every 
side the lovely landscape, fresh and verdant in the summer 
sunlight. Above us, on the roof, or ridge-pole, runs an orna- 
mental gilt crest, looking like spikes from below, but really a 
string of gilt spires, nearly five feet in height, while the great 
cross above is twenty-seven feet high, and weighs thirteen 
hundred and eighty-eight pounds. From this gallery we 
passed in through a little door under the roofing, and 
above the vaulted arches of the interior, to an opening which 
was surrounded by a railing. Through this opening the spec- 
tator has an opportunity of looking to the interior beneath 
him, and has a view directly downwards to the pavement, one 
hundred and fifty feet below. 

The middle steeple is yet to be ascended. This is strongly 
built of iron, and ninety-four steps more cany us up to the 
highest point of ascent — three hundred and twenty-nine 
seeps in all. The star which surmounts the steeple above us 
i i three hundred and fifty feet from the pavement. A glance 
'^elow at the cathedral shows the form of its ground plan, 
-,nd the landscape view extends as far as the eye can reach. 

Cologne is not an over-clean city, and we were not sorry to 
imbark on the dampschift, as they call the little Rhine steam- 
boat, for our trip to Mayence. These little steamers, with 
their awning-shaded decks, upon which you may sit and dine, 
or enjoy the pure light wines of the country, — which nevei 
taste so well anywhere else, — and view the romantic and beau- 
tiful scenery upon the banks of this historic river as you glide 
along, afford a most delightful mode of transit, and one whieb 



UP THE RHINE. 333 

we most thoroughly enjoyed, the weather bsing chaiming, 
and the boat we were upon an excellent one, and not crowded 
with passengers. 

The great Cathedral of Cologne, a conspicuous landmark, 
and the high arches of the railroad bridge, gradually disap- 
pear as we steam away up the river, looking on either side at 
the pleasant views, till the steeple and residences of Bonn 
greet us, after a tw^ hours' sail. Here we make a landing, 
near the Grand Hotel Royal, a beautiful hotel, and charm- 
ingly situated. Facing the river, its two wings extend from 
the mam body of the house, enclosing a spacious garden, 
which stretches down to the river banks, and is tastefully 
laid out with winding walks, rustic arbors, and flower-beds. 
From its garden and windows you may gaze upon the charm- 
ing panorama of the river, with the peaks of the Seven 
Mountains rising in the distance, and the Castle of Godesberg 
on its lofty peak, near the river. 

But our little steamer fumes and fusses at its landing-place, 
eager to depart ; so we step on board, and it steams once 
more out against the curling current between the hills of 
Rhineland. The scenery now becomes more varied and 
interesting; pleasant little roads wind off in the distance 
amid the hills ; a chapel is perched here and there, and ever 
and anon we meet some big, flat-bottomed boat floating idly 
down the stream, loaded with produce, with a heavy, loose- 
jacketed, broad-leaf-hatted German lounging in the stern, 
smoking a painted or ornamented pipe, and you think of the 
pictures you have so often stared at in the windows of the 
print shops. 

We begin to note the vineyards on the sloping banks, the 
vines on sticks four or five feet high, and sometimes in what 
appears to be unpromising looking ground. 

We pass various little towns with unpronounceable names, 
such as Niederdollendorf, for instance. We make occasional 
landings, and take on board women with queer head-dresses, 
and coarse, black, short dresses, stout shoes, and worsted 
BtockingSj and men with many-buttoned jackets, holiday vel- 



834 "THE CASTLE-CPwOWNED KHINE." 

vet vests, painted porcelain pipes, and heavy, hob-nailed 
shoes; children in short, blue, coarse jean, and wooden shoes, 
all of whom occupy a position on the lower forward deck, 
among the light freight — chiefly provisions and household 
movables — that the steamer carries. The shores begin to 
show a background of hills; the Seven Mountains are in 
view, and Drachenfels (Dragon's Rock), with its castle 
perched eight hundred and fifty-five feet above the river, on 
its vine-clad height, realizes one's ideas of those ancient cas- 
tles where the old robber chieftains of the middle ages estab 
lished themselves, and from these strongholds issued on their 
freebooting expeditions, or watched the river for passing 
crafts, from which to exact tribute. The scenery about here 
is lovely ; the little villages on the banks, the vine-clad hills, 
little Gothic churches, the winding river, and the highlands 
swelling blue in the distance, all fill out a charming picture. 

Still we glide along, and the arched ruin of Rolandseck, on 
Its hill three hundred and forty feet above the river, appears 
in view. A single arch of the castle alone remains darkly 
printed against the sky, and, like all Rhine castles, it has its 
romantic story, which you read from your guide-book as you 
glide along the river, or hear told by some dreamy tourist, 
who has the romance in him, which the sight of these crum- 
bling old relics of the past excites. And he tells you how 
Roland, a brave crusader of Charlemagne's army, left his 
lady love near this place, when he answered the summons oi 
the monarch to the Holy Land ; how the lady, after his pro- 
longed absence, heard that he was dead, and betook herself 
to a convent on the picturesque little island of Nonnenworth ; 
how the bold crusader, who had not been killed, hastened 
back on the wings of love, eager to claim his bride after his 
long absence, and found her in the relentless clutch of a con- 
vent ; how, in despair, he built this castle, which commanded 
a view of the cloisters, where he could hear the sound of the 
convent bell, and occasionally catch a glimpse of a fair form 
that he knew full well, passing to her devotions ; how, at last, 
«he came no more, but the tolling bell and nuns' procession 



PICTURESQUE SCENERY. 335 

toll him that she whom he loved was dead; and how, from 
that moment, the knight spoke no more, but died heart-broken, 
his last gaze turned towards the convent where his love had 
died; and all that remains of the knightly lover's castle is the 
solitary wall that lifts its ruined arch distinct against the 
dark-blue sky. 

We pass the little island of Nonnenwurth ; and the nun 
nery is still upon it, founded far back in the eleventh century, 
but rebuilt in the fifteenth, and suppressed by Napoleon in 
1802, and now a sort of school under the management of Fran 
ciscan nuns. The view about here, looking down the river, 
is romantic and beautiful. On one side, on the more level 
country, lie several small villages ; then, down along the 
banks of the river, rise the rugged cliffs, the ruined castles of 
Rolandseck and Drachenfels crowning two jutting points of 
the hills, and in the distance, mellowed by the haze, the 
peaks of the hills known as the Seven Mountains, and Lo wen- 
berg peak, crowned with a crumbling ruin, rise to view, 
which, with the little island and its convent for a foregroundj 
form a charming picture. 

"We sail along, and make another landing for passengers at 
Remagen. Opposite Remagen we see a huge cliff, which 
rises nearly six hundred and fifty feet above the river, and is 
profitable, as well as picturesque, for it is a stone quarry, the 
product of which can be placed directly into the river craft 
at its base. The Rhine now describes a long curve, as we 
approach Nieder-Breisig. A little village called Dattenberg 
is wedged in between the hills, on a little river that empties 
into the Rhine, and, as we pass it, the tall, round, stone 
towers of Arenfels come in view. Then we reach Nieder- 
Rreisig, and opposite is Rheineck, with its modern-built 
tower crowning the height. Then we come to the two Ham- 
in ersteins, with their vineyards and castle, and then the pic- 
turesque old town of Anclernach heaves in sight, with its tall 
watch-tower overlooking the river. Then come Kaltenen- 
gens and others, which I at last became tired of noting down, 
and enjoyed the afternoon sunset that was softening the vine- 



B36 BEIDGB OF BOATS. 

clad slopes, and lighting up the arches and windows of each 
ruined castle, chajoel, or watch-tower that was sure to crown 
every conspicuous eminence, until, at last, our little steamer 
rounded in at the pier at Coblentz, with its fine hotels strung 
along near the river bank, and the Gibraltar of the Rhine, 
the grim old Castle of Ehrenbreitstein, looking down on ns 
from its rocky eminence on the opposite shore. 

Coblentz, the guide-books tell us, is a famous stopping-place 
for tourists on the Rhine, between Cologne and Mayence, 
being equi-distant from both. It is certainly a capital half- 
way resting-place, and, however pleasing the steamboat trip 
may have been, the traveller can but enjoy the change to one 
of the clean, well-kept hotels at this beautiful situation. 

The hotel agents were at the pier, — spoke English and 
French fluently, — and we were soon installed into the pleas- 
antest of rooms, commanding a view of the river, whose 
swiftly-flowing current rolls not fifty paces distant. A bridge 
of boats spans it, and high above the river bank rises the old 
castle, upon the battlements of which I can see the glitter of 
the sentinels' bayonets in the summer sunset. 

The bridge of boats, and the passengers who cross it, are 
a never-ceasing source of entertainment to us ; soldiers and 
elegantly-dressed officers from the castle ; country girls, with 
curious head-dresses; and now and then a holiday-rigged 
peasant ; costermongers' carts and dog-teams — one, consist- 
ing of three big dogs abreast, came over at full gallop, the 
driver, a boy, cracking his whip, and the whole team barking 
furiously. We saw a whole regiment of Prussian infantry, 
armed with the Prussian needle-gun, march over from the 
castle — a fine body of men, and headed by a band of forty 
pieces, playing in a style that would make the military enthu- 
siasm, if the listener possessed any, tingle to the very soles 
of his feet. When steamboats or other craft desire to pass 
this floating bridge, a section is detached, — a sort of floating 
"draw," — and suffered to swing out with the stream; the 
steamer passes the gap ; after which the detached section is 
pulled back to position again. 



ENJOYING THE JtHINE. 337 

Right at thi3 charming bend of the river, on one side of 
the town, flows the Moselle, as we call it, but Mo/Je, as you 
learn to pronounce it in Europe — the blue Moselle. " On 
the banks of the blue Moselle," ran the old song; and as pic- 
turesque and poetical a river as can be imagined is the Mo- 
selle, with its arched bridge spanning it, and its sparkling 
stream winding through a lovely landscape ; but the portion 
of Coblentz that borders on its bank is poor and dirty, and 
in striking contrast with the elegant buildings and bright 
appearance of the Rhine front of the town : the " blue " of the 
Moselle refuses to mix with the more turbid glacier-tinted 
Rhine, and for a long distance down the stream this blue 
makes itself visible and distinct from the Rhine water, till 
gradually absorbed by it. 

We are now beginning to come to those charming hotels 
on the great lines of continental travel routes, which in Ger- 
many and Switzerland are not the least attractive features 
of the tour. Here at Coblentz I enjoy excellent accommo- 
dations, room fresh and fragrant, with clean linen, spotless 
curtains, and not a speck of dust visible, my windows com- 
manding the charming Rhine panorama, waiters speaking 
French, German, and English, a well-served table d'hote, and 
all for less than half the price charged in America. 

The wine-drinkers here, from America, are in ecstasies, for 
we appear to be at headquarters for the light Rhine wines of 
the country ; two francs buy a bottle costing one dollar and 
twenty-five cents at home, and five francs such as cannot be 
got in America for three dollars. The sparkling Moselle and 
celebrated Johannisberger are to be had here in perfection, 
and the newly-arrived American is not long in ascertaining 
what a different thing the same brand of wine is in this coun- 
try from what it is at home. 

"Ah, if we bad wine like this at home, how I should like 
to have it oftener ! " have I heard frequently said by travellers. 
It is too 'jue that it is extremely difficult to get pure (im- 
ported) wines and liquors, pay what price one may in Amer- 
ica; and perhaps one reason why the light wines of Germany 
22 



338 COBLENTZ AND EHEENBKEITSTEIN. 

are so agreeable to the tourist's palate, is in the surroundings 
and the time they are taken, such as on the deck of a Rhine 
steamer, at the top of a steep crag, in a picturesque old castle, 
in a German garden, where a capital orchestra makes the 
very atmosphere luxuriant with Strauss waltzes and Gungl 
galops, or at the gay table cVhoie with pleasure-seeking tour- 
ists, who, like himself, are only studying how to enjoy them- 
selves, recounting past pleasure jaunts, or planning new oneo. 

However, be this as it may, it is, I believe, acknowledged 
that the only place to get the Rhine wines is in Rhin eland; 
and the difference between them and the compounds fur- 
nished in America is obvious to the dullest taste. The purest 
and most reliable wines now in otir own country are the 
California and other native wines, although they are not so 
fashionable as the doctored foreign, and imitation of foreign, 
that are palmed off as genuine. 

As I looked from my windows over the river and up at 
the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, seated on its rocky perch 
three hundred and seventy-seven feet above the river, and 
the eye caught the occasional glitter of a weapon, or the ear 
the faint rattle of a drum, or the sound of the bugle call, 
softened by the distance, I found myself repeating fragments 
of Byron's Childe Harold. 

" Here Ehrenbreitstein with her shattered wall, 
Black with the miner's blast upon her height, 
Yet shows of what she was when shell and ball 
Rebounding lightly on her strength did light." 

"A tower of victory" it is indeed, for it has only twice 
been taken by an enemy during the best part of a thou- 
sand years — once by stratagem, and once being reduced by 
famine. 

We crossed the bridge of boats, which is fourteen hundred 
and ten feet long, got tickets of admission to the foi tress 
in the little town of Ehrenbreitstein the other side, mounted 
with labor up the steep ascent, and as we came within view 
of these tremendous works, upon which money and engineer- 



RHINE PANORAMA. 839 

ing skill seem to have been expended without stint, we did 
not wonder at their impregnability, or that they excite so 
much admiration among the military engineers of the woi Id 
From the ramparts we enjoyed a magnificent view of the 
whole river and the country between Andernach and Stol- 
zenfels. Below us was triangular-shaped Coblentz, and its 
row of handsome buildings facing the River Rhine, the bridge 
of boats and never-ending moving diorama sort of scene, 
while at the right of the town glided the blue Moselle, its 
azure waters moving unmixed as they flowed along with the 
Rhine, and the railroad bridge spanning the stream with its 
graceful arches ; beyond that the fortifications of Fort Franz, 
commanding the river and vicinity ; and far off to the right 
of that a fertile plain towards Andernach, the scene of Caesar's 
first passage of the Rhine, B. C. 55, and of the sieges of the 
thirty years war, in 1631 to 1660, and the bloody campaigns 
of Louis XIV. 

Farther to our left, and near the junction of the two rivers, 
we observed the Church of St. Castor, built in 1208 ; and it 
was in a small square near this church, in one of our walks 
about the town, that we came to a little monument, raised 
by a French official at the commencement of the campaign 
against Russia, bearing this inscription : — 

" Made memorable by the campaign against the Russians, under the 
prefecturate of Jules Doazan, 1812." 

When the Russian general entered the town, he added 
these words, which still remain : — 

" Seen and approved by the Eussian commander of the city of Coblentz, 
January 1, 1814." 

A delightful afternoon ride, in an open carriage, along the 
river bank for three or four miles, brought us to the foot of 
the ascent leading to the castle of Stolzenfels, which looks 
down upon the river from a rocky eminence about four hun- 
dred feet above it. Refusing the proffers of donkeys or chaise 
it porter for the ladies, we determined to make the ascent 



340 STOLZEK FELS. 

on foot, and very soon found that the " guides," donkeys, and 
portable chairs "were "a weak invention of the enemy," for 
the road, although winding, was broad, easy, and delightfully 
shady and romantic. We passed an old Roman mile-stone 
on the road, and after crossing a drawbridge, reached the 
royal castle. 

This most beautifully restored relic of the middle ages was, 
in 1802, a ruin of a castle of five hundred years before; in 
1823 it was partially restored, and since then has been com- 
pletely rebuilt and beautified at a cost of fifty-three thousand 
pounds sterling. Everything is in good proportion, Stolzen- 
fels being somewhat of a miniature castle, its great banquet 
ball scarcely double the size of a good-sized drawing-room ; but 
its whole interior and exterior are a model of exquisite taste. 
It has its little castle court-yard, its beautifully contrived plat- 
form overlooking the Rhine, its watch-towers and its turrets, 
all undersized, but in exact proportions. Through the tower 
windows, which are wreathed with ivy ; from the windows of 
little boudoirs of rooms, which were cabinets of rare china 
and exquisite cabinet paintings ; from embrasures in galleries 
and halls which had exquisite statuettes, instead of large size 
statues ; from little Gothic windows in the chapel ; and, in fact, 
from every conceivable and most unexpected point was the 
visitor encountering different lovely framed views, as it were, 
of the natural scenery of the country. These outlooks were 
so skilfully contrived as each to give a different view, and as 
at this point of the Rhine is the narrowest and most romantic 
part of the valley, the views are of the most enchanting de- 
scription. 

Looking out of an ivy-wreathed window of Stolzenfels, the 
spectator would see, framed, as it were, in stone-work and 
green leaves, a picture of the river, with its boats and bridges ■ 
through another, or an embrasure, a square-framed picture of 
an elevation on the opposite bank, crowned by a pilgrims' 
chapel, while from the watch-tower you look down upon the 
lovely valley of the River Lahn, which near this point Aoavs 
into the Rhine ; and from another turret we look back upon 



LAND OF THE VINE. 341 

the mascsy walls of Ehrenbreitstein, Coblentz, with the apex 
of its triangle pointing out into the stream, and behind its 
base the strong walls of Fort Constantino, marked out like 
stone lines on the greensward. The apartments in this castle 
are exquisitely furnished, and the furniture, tapestry, pic- 
tines, and statues adapted to harmonize with their size, which 
is 1 airy-like in comparison with castles generally. 

In one hall were a series of beautiful frescoes of chivalric 
scenes — Godfrey cle Bouillon at the Holy Sepulchre ; John 
of Bohemia at the Battle of Cressy; Rudolph of Hapsburg 
judging knightly robbers, &c. There was a beautiful little 
chapel with elegant frescoes. In the armory were specimens 
of light and curious armor, among which were swords of 
Napoleon, Blucher, and Murat, specimens of exquisite Toledo 
blades, arabesque ornamented daggers, exquisitely wrought 
and flexible chain-mail shirts, and other curiosities of defen- 
sive armor. In the different rooms through which we were 
conducted, among other works of the old masters, were 
cabinet pictures by Holbein, Titian, Van Dyck, Albert Diirer, 
Rembrandt, &c. The charming views of the surrounding 
scenery without, and the exquisite taste displayed on the 
interior of this royal castle, made us regret to leave its little 
leaf-clad turrets, fairy-like watch-towers, romantic terraces, 
and picturesque battlements ; and we believed the custodian 
when he averred that Queen Victoria was charmed with the 
place when she visited it a few years since, for it was fit to 
charm even a queen with its beauty. 

Once more we are steaming up the river, and Stolzenfels is 
left behind us, and the towers of Lahneck come in sight, a 
feudal castle restored by a wealthy Englishman, and which 
occupies a crag above the River Lahn ; we pass little white 
villages nestled at the foot of the hills, and looking far inland, 
see the slopes bristling with vineyards ; we are in the land of 
tfie vine. Next comes another great castle, Marksburg, frown 
ing from its rocky height four hundred and eighty feet above 
the stream, and we lazily inspect it by the aid of a double 
ti^M-glass, as we he at full length on a settee, beneath the 



342 LEGENDARY CASTLES. 

steamer's awning, and, on inquiry, find that after being an 
old feudal castle, and bearing its weight of half a thousand 
years bravely, it has been degraded into a states prison! 
The little town near the river, an old watch-tower, a road 
winding off amid the hills for a foreground, and this old castle 
high above as the background, forms so charming a picture, 
that one wishes it might, by some magic process, be trans- 
ferred to canvas, that he could carry it away, and show it to 
others as it appeared to him. Farther on we pass the little 
castle of Liebeneck ; then comes Boppard, where, in feudal 
times, once existed an establishment of the Knights Tem- 
plars. Next we sweep round a great angle or elbow of the 
river, and there come in sight of a little village, with a Gothic 
church of the fifteenth century, behind and high above it, the 
two castles known as " the Brothers," connected with each 
other by a narrow natural bridge of rock. 

These two castles have a legend, as in fact nearly all the 
Rhine castles have, and half the charm of one's trip consists 
in having them told to you at the right time, or recalling the 
half forgotten story of boyhood piecemeal with some com- 
peignoir de voyage. The story of these castles is familiar, 
and is of two brothers loving the same lady, of faithlessness, 
of jealousy; and finally the lady in the case, with the delight- 
fully German romantic name of Hildegarde, retires to the 
convent at the foot of the hill — that is the way they always 
do in these Rhine legends ; it brings the convent into the 
story, and, perhaps, excites a desire on the part of the tourist 
vo see the cell occupied by the fair penitent, without suspect- 
ing that the exhibition may prove something more of a sell 
than he bargained for. Well, the lady retired, the two 
brothers were reconciled, and lived ever after in one castle, 
instead of two. 

More quaint little villages, other ruined castles ! Thumberg, 
ihe "Mouse" cnstle, looms up, with its square, shattered 
walls, and round tower, rising from their midst against the 
sky as we sweep by it ; and St. Goar, a conspicuous-looking 
town, comes in view, with the huge ruins of Rheinfels, three 



RHINE ROMANCES. 343 

hundred and seventy feet above it, the most magnificent 
ruin on the river, a second Ehrenbreitstein in strength, and 
which has laughed one siege of fifteen months to scorn in the 
thirteenth century, and in 1692 was again defended success- 
fully against an army of twenty-four thousand men, but 
blown up by the French revolutionary army of 1794. It is 
now simply a picturesque ruin on its rocky eminence, with 
the railway track creeping around its base ; below the track, 
nearer the river, winds the carriage-road to the town. 

The Mouse, or Maus Castle, which we passed before 
reaching Rheinfels, was so called by the envious counts of 
Katzenelnbogen (there's a name to write), who named their 
own castle, near here, the Cat (Katz) ; but the story goes 
that the mouse and its stout old warrior were more than a 
match for the cat ; in fact, he was so feared in his day that the 
proverb was reversed, and when the mouse was away the 
cat would play. 

Now we reach the precipitous rocks known as the " Lur- 
lei " crags, towering four hundred and twenty feet above the 
river, which flows swiftly down their base; and here was 
where Lurlei, the siren, sat and chanted her songs, which 
lured fishermen, knights, and sailors to their destruction in 
the rapids that whirled beneath her lofty and romantic seat. 
As we passed we heard no siren's song, but our ears were 
saluted with the shrill whistle of that practical chanter of the 
advance of civilization, the locomotive, that rushed through a 
tunnel, piercing the very base of the magic rock, and whirling 
out of sight with a shriek that made the hills echo like the 
scream of a demon, leaving an angry puff of smoke issuing 
from the rocky orifice, as if the fiend had vanished from the 
surface to the centre. 

Now we pass Oberwesel, with its romantic ravines, pictu- 
resque vineyards, and old ruins of Castle Schonburg ; farther 
on, on the opposite bank, the grand old castle of Gutenfels 
stands guard over the town beneath it ; then comes that little 
hexagonal castle, or stone fortification, on an island, looking 
as though anchored in mid stream, known as the Pfalz; it 



844 PICTURESQUE BEAUTY. 

was erected in the thirteenth century, as a toll-house fci ex- 
acting tribute, and has served, if not as a prison, as a place 
of royal confinement — tradition being that the Countesses 
Palatine remained here during their accouchements. We 
wind round a point, and the Castle of Stahleck, once the prin- 
cipal residence of the Counts Palatine, makes its appearance; 
then come the ruins of Fiirstenburg, once the stronghold of 
an old robber, who was bold enough to fire into the emperor's 
boat that refused to pay toll as it passed ; the stream now 
narrows perceptibly, and a little slender tower, perched like a 
sentinel on watch on its walls, at a narrow ravine, attracts 
attention ; it is Sooneck, and was a robbers' stronghold in the 
eleventh century. 

Now we sweep round another bend in the river, and come 
in sight of the lofty pinnacles, turrets, and towers of the 
beautiful Castle of Rheinstein, two hundred and fifty feet 
above the river, completely restored, the banner floating in 
the breeze from its topmost tower, and a basket suspended 
upon an iron crane from one of the towers towards the river ; 
the whole shows the tourist just how these old strongholds 
used to look during the middle ages, and a party of ladies, 
far up in a little ivy-clad bower, at an angle of the castle 
terrace, exchanged greetings with us in handkerchief wavings 
as we passed. 

Now we come to Ehrenfels, and the vineyards where the 
Riidesheimer grapes are raised ; these vineyards are arrayed 
in- terraces, one above the other, and the banks all along' 
on the side of the hill, upheld by arches of masonry, and 
brick and stone supports, put up apparently to keep the 
earth in place, and afford more space for the vines from which 
the celebrated vintage is obtained. At this point, on a rock, 
in mid stream, stands the well-known Mouse Tower, cele- 
brated in Southey's legend as the retreat of Bishop Hatto, 
who sought to escape the rats by fleeing to it; but his ene- 
mies swam the stream, entered the stronghold, and 

" Whetted their teeth against the stones, 
And then they picked the bishop's bones." 



"BINGEN ON THE RHINE." 345 

Bingen would never have attracted so much attention from 
Americans and Englishmen if the Hon. Mrs. Norton, I think 
it "was, had not written her beautiful poem of the djing 
soldier, who was a native of the place, and whose last words 
to the comrade who knelt by his side on the field of battle, 
were his memories of " Sweet Bingen, dear Bingen on the 
Rhine," and sent messages home to his friends who lived at 

"Bingen on the Rhine." 

For no other reason than because they had read this poem 
and wished to see Bingen, that had been so charmingly 
written about, did a party of Americans land here ; and in 
truth the little town was prettily situated, with a little river at 
one side of it, the Nahe, flowing into the Rhine, spanned by 
an old arched bridge, while its slender spires and white houses 
look forth upon the swift-flowing river, divided by the little 
island bearing the Mouse Tower, and upon the steep slopes of 
vineyards on the other side of the Rhine, backed by the old 
Castle of Ehrenfels. 

After leaving Bingen we come to the square-looking old 
Castle of Bromserburg, its shattered turrets green with vines 
and weeds, and farther on, other old ruins, " whose names I 
noted not," except one little church, that stood out like a 
white toy, away up on a sharp point of the hills; and then I 
was sorry I attempted to note it, for the Prussian, who spoke 
English, was compelled to write the name for me, it being an 
absolute impossibility for me to do so correctly, according to 
the pronunciation of the country; so I will leave Rochus- 
capelle, and the bright-looking little villages that we pass, foi 
the old castle, Johannisberg, which greets our view on its 
vine-clad eminence, three hundred and forty feet above the 
river. 

The vineyards which circle round and about the great hill 
surmounted by this castle are said to cover forty acres of 
ground, and it is here that the celebrated Yo-hannis-bagger 
— as they pronounce it — wine is made. 

This Johannisberg vineyard is situated in the district, about 



3-U5 ROMAN REMAINS. 

fifteen miles in length, celebi'ated as producing the finest 
wines of the Rhine. There are Rudesheim, Hosheiin, Hatten- 
heim, the Steinberger, Graffenherg, and many other "heims" 
and "bergs," whose mellowness and flavor, which is more or 
less injured by travel, may be enjoyed here by wine-drinkers, 
in their perfection, at a comparatively moderate cost. 

Now we pass two or three islands, with unpronounceable 
names, more white-walled towns, backed by castle ruins, or 
handsome country residences and well-kept vineyards, with 
their serried rows of vines rising terrace above terrace on the 
hill-sides. Here come the ancient, quaint little village of 
Niederwalluf, known in record as far back as the year 770, 
Schierstein embosomed in trees, and Biebrich with its ducal 
palace, splendid garden, and park; we glide between two 
islands, and come in sight of the triple line of fortifications 
and cathedral steeples of Mayence. 

Mayence, which claims to be the place where the Emperor 
Constantine saw his vision of the cross, which is the strongest 
fortress in the German confederation, which was founded B. C 
14 by the Romans, and where they show you the remains of 
a Roman acqueduct, a Roman burial-ground, and the site of 
the Roman camp, and, in the walls of the citadel, a monu- 
ment erected by two of the Roman legions in honor of their 
commander-in-chief, Drusus, more than eighteen hundred 
years ago, an aged-looking, gray, circular tower, forty feet in 
height, — Mayence, with its bridge of boats, two thousand two 
hundred and twenty feet in length, and Mayence, which is 
the end of our journey up the Rhine. 

We expected, from travellers' stories, to have been disap- 
pointed with the Rhine, and were — favorably disappointed. 
The succession of natural beauties of its scenery, the historic 
interest attached to almost every foot of the course between 
Cologne and Mayence, the novelty to American eyes of the 
romantic ruins that crown the picturesque heights, the smil- 
ing vineyards, quaint little towns, odd churches, prim watch 
towers, Gothic cathedrals, white-walled cities, and boat- 
bridges, of course lend a charm to this beautiful river, and, 



MAYENCE. 847 

notwithstanding rny national pride, I cannot agree with some 
of my countrymen, who assert that the Hudson River is as 
rich in picturesque scenery as the Rhine, " leaving the castles 
out." The river scenery in America, that in character most 
resembles that of the Rhine, is the Upper Mississippi, between 
Prairie du Chien and St. Paul, and thei'e some of the remark- 
able natural formations of the limestone bluffs supply the 
place of the Rhine castles ; but where that river widens out 
into Lake Pepin, the comparison, of course, ceases. 

The Rhine is a river of romance. A sail up the Rhine is 
something to be enjoyed by a student, a tourist who has 
"read up," a lover of travel who has longed to wander amid 
the scenes he has pored over on the pages of books, gazed at 
in pictures and engravings, and wondered if the reality could 
possibly be equal to the counterfeit presentment ; and to such 
it will be as it was to us, — 

" A thing of beauty, and a joy forever." 

We rambled around Mayence, visited its filthy market- 
place, and its old cathedral, founded in the tenth century, 
which has felt the stern vicissitudes of war quite severely, 
serving at different periods as a garrison for troops, a hay and 
provision magazine, &c. In the interior are quite a number 
of monuments of German electors, with tongue-puzzling names, 
and a tablet to the memory of one of Charlemagne's wives ; 
and in the Chapter-house is a beautiful sculpture by Schwan- 
thaler, representing a female figure decorating a sarcophagus 
with a wreath ; a monument, erected by the ladies of May- 
ence in 1842, in memory of a certain holy minstrel, who sang 
of piety and woman's virtue some time in the early part of 
the fourteenth century. Not far from the cathedral is Gut- 
tenberg Square, where we saw Thorwaldsen's statue of Gut- 
♦enberg, representing him as an old man, with the long, flaw- 
ing, philosopher-looking gown, or robe, full beard, and skull- 
cap, with some of his precious volumes under his arm, and 
upon the pedestal of the monument were bass-reliefs repre- 
senting scenes in his life. A bronze statue of Schiller adorns 
another square here. 



348 WIESBADEJN. 

After Mayence, we found ourselves taking a two hours' ride 
to Wiesbaden, one of the oldest watering-places in Germany, 
and for gambling second only to Baden-Baden. Here wo 
found fine rooms at the Hotel Victoria, and the polite land- 
lord, HeiT Holzapfel, with a desire to facilitate the enjoyment 
of the tourist, very graciously presented me Avith a handsome 
little local guide-book, bearing the astounding title, " Frem- 
denfilhrer fur Wiesbaden und seine Umgebung" and its im- 
print informed me, " 1m Auftrage des Verschonerungsvereins 
herav. sgege ben? 

Fancy an individual, unacquainted with the German tongue, 
with this lucid little guide, printed in small German text, to 
aid him in seeing the sights ! However, I thanked the land- 
lord, and pocketed the guide-book as one of the curiosities of 
the place. Our first walk was to the chief attraction here to 
all visitors, the great gaming-house known as the Cursaal, — 
which is suggestive of the more appropriate title Curse-all, — 
where the spacious and elegant gaming-saloons, that have 
been described so often, were open for play from eleven A. M. 
to eleven P. M., and which, during the season, are thronged 
with players at the roulette and rouge-et-noir tables. The 
central figure of attraction to strangers, when we were there, 
was the old Duchess of Homburg, who was each day wheeled 
in a chair to the table by her servant, and gambled away furi- 
ously, not scrupling a malediction when she lost heavily, or 
caring to conceal the eager gratification that played upon her 
wrinkled features, or made the gold rattle in her trembling 
and eager clutch, when she won. 

This gaming-hall is furnished with elegant dining, ball, and 
reading-rooms, and adjoining the building is an extensive and 
elegantly laid out park and pleasure-ground, where a fine band 
play during the afternoon, and throngs frequent its delightful 
alleys, walks, and arbors. All these are free to the visitor ; 
and sometimes, in the evening, the band plays in the ball- 
room, and gayly-dressed crowds are whirling about in German 
waltzes and galops, and couples, for a rest now and then, will 
stroll into the adjacent lofty saloons of play, the silence of 



GAMBLING HALLS. 349 

which is in striking contrast with the ball-room clatter with- 
out. Here the only loud words spoken are those of the man- 
agers of the table, which, at regular interval's, rise above the 
subdued hum and the musical rattle of gold and silver, or its 
clink n gainst the croupier's rake, as they sweep in the stakes 
from every part of the table to the insatiate maw of the bank, 
with the familiar and oft-repeated formula of, — 

" Faites voire jeu, messieurs.' 1 '' 

"Lejeu, est-il fait?" 

" Rien ne va plus.' 1 '' 

(Make your game, gentlemen. Is the game made ? Noth- 
ing more goes). Or, at the roulette table, audible announce- 
ment of the numbers, and color which wins, determined by 
the ball in the revolving wheel. 

Leaving Wiesbaden, its gamesters, and its mineral spring, 
the water of which tasted very much like a warm decoction 
of salt and water, we sped on to Frankfort-on-the-Main. Here 
we rode through beautiful streets, upon each side of which 
were broad double houses, surrounded by elegant gardens. 
Here is the monument of Guttenberg, consisting of the three 
figures of Guttenberg, Fust and Sch offer, beneath which, on 
the ornamental work, are likenesses of celebrated printers, 
and grouped aiound the monument are figures of Theology, 
Poetry, History, and Industry. 

Here we saw the house in which Goethe was born, and rode 
down through the Judengasse, or Jews Street. The quarter 
inhabited by the Jews is a curious old place, some parts too 
narrow to permit two vehicles passing each other ; the un- 
painted, high, quaint, and solid old wooden houses, totally 
black with age, stores in the lower stories for the sale of 
second-hand clothes, and every species of cheap and second- 
hand merchandise; on all sides were troops and troops of 
children, with sparkling black eyes, and the unmistakable 
Jewish nose. The houses had antique carved wood door- 
posts to deep, dark entries, in which were deeply-worn stairs, 
i,hat lead away up to the overhanging stories above ; and in 
the entry of one of the blackest and most aged of these old 



350 FRANKFOBT-OTST-THE-MAIN. 

structures yawned a huge trap-door, occupying more th an half 
the space from the threshold to the stair. Peeping down the 
aperture, left where the half leaf had been raised by its old- 
fashioned iron ring, I could see nothing but blackness, and 
imagine how some wealthy Hebrew might have made this the 
drawbridge to his citadel, so that the robber, who gained ac- 
cess beyond the bolts and chains that guarded the portal, 
would, with a step, be precipitated into the depths below. 
An iron ring, a trap-door, and old house in the Jews' quarter 
— what an amount of capital or material for a sensational 
story-writer in a cheap publication! 

Here, in the Jews' quarter, we were shown the house in 
which Rothschild was born, — Rochid they call the name 
here, — and just as we were emerging from the narrow, 
gloomy, and dirty passages of this quarter, my eye caught a 
familiar object in the little grated window of a sort of shop or 
office. I looked a second time, and there, the central figure 
amid a straggling display of bank notes of different nationali- 
ties, was a five-hundred dollar United States five-twenty bond, 
a part of the stock in trade of a Jew exchange and money 
broker, who, notwithstanding the unpretending appearance 
of his shop, which looked like a prison cell with the outside 
shutter down from the grated window, would probably have 
been able to furnish a purchaser ten times the amount on 
demand if he required it. 

In striking contrast to the Judengasse is the Ziel, the finest 
street in Frankfort, filled with elegant shops and houses. 
The Jews in Frankfort were so tyrannically treated, that they 
founded the Jews Street themselves in 1462, and lived ex- 
clusively in that quarter of the city till the year 1806, and in 
olden times, on Sundays and holidays, the entrances to this 
quarter were closed with gates and bars, and any Jew who 
ventured into any other part of the city incurred a heavy 
penalty. Now, midway between Judengasse and the Ziei 
rise the business offices of the Rothschilds, that opulent family 
to wli^m even the proudest in their hours of need would fain 
doff their caps for favors ; and hard by the progress of tolera 



HEIDELBERG. 351 

lion is marked by a fine new synagogue, built in the O dental 
style in 1855. 

We rode to the Hessian Monument, as it is called, near 
one of the city gates; it consists of huge masses of rock 
heaped together, upon which stands a pillar bearing a sword, 
helmet, and ram's head, and on the sides are bronze tablets 
with the names of the Hessians who fell on that spot in 
1792. The Latin inscription informs the reader that the 
monument was erected by Frederick William, King of Prus- 
sia, who was an admiring witness of their bravery. 

When we rattled over the pavements of the city of Heidel- 
berg, on our way to the Prince Charles Hotel, I looked on all 
sides for groups and bands of the celebrated students who 
figure so prominently in novels and stories, and half expected 
to meet a string of six, arm in arm, walking in the middle of 
the streets, smoking big meerschaums, and wearing queer-cut 
clothes and ornamental caps, or singing uproarious college 
songs. Or I might encounter several devil-may-care fellows, 
each bearing a scar upon some part of his face, the result of 
one of those noted Heidelberg duels the story-writers tell of 
But either the story-tellers had romanced most magnificently, 
or we had arrived at a time of day — which we afterwards 
found to be the case — when the students were engaged in 
their favorite pastime of swilling lager beer, in the dense at- 
mosphere of tobacco smoke, from scores of pipes, in their 
favorite coffee-house ; for we only met a snuffy old professor 
in a black velvet skull-cap and big round spectacles, and an 
occasional very proper-looking young man, save one whose 
scarlet embroidered cap gave him the appearance of a mem- 
ber of an American base-ball club. 

Some forward Americans had gone before us, and secured 
the remaining rooms in the Prince Charles, which were next 
the roof; so we were driven to the Adler (eagle), on the samo 
square, an enclosure known as the Cornmarkt, where we 
were admirably served. Our apartments looked out upon 
the curious old square with its fountain in the middle, to and 
from which women went and came all day long, and bore off 



352 HELDELBEEG CASTLE. 

water in jars, pails, and tubs, some poising a heavy wash tut 
full upon their heads, and walking off with a steady gait 
under the burden. Overlooking the little square, rose the 
famous Heidelberg Castle, three hundred feet above us ; and 
we could see a steep foot-path leading to it, known as the 
Burgweg (castle-way), which commenced on the side of the 
square opposite our hotel. 

Heidelberg is charmingly situated on the River Neckar, 
is rich in historical associations, and, as all readers are aware, 
is attractive to the tourist chiefly from its university, and its 
castle, which is one of the last creations of the old castle- 
builders, and seems in its style to be something between a 
stronghold and a chateau, a palace and a fortification. It 
certainly is a most imposing and magnificent ruin, with its 
lofty turrets, great round towers, terraces, arched gate-ways, 
and still splendid court-yards and grounds ; the splendor of 
the building and beauty of its situation induce one enthusi- 
astic guide-book to style it " the Alhambra of the Germans." 

A good, comfortable night's rest at the Eagle Hotel pre- 
pared us for the ascent next morning by the steep pathway 
and steps that led up to it from the Cora Market ; up we go, 
and after an ascent of about fifteen minutes, we pass through 
a massive arch-way, known as Frederic IV.'s building, and 
stand in the great court-yard of the castle. 

The portion of the buildings fronting on this grand en- 
closure are elegantly carved and decorated with arcades and 
life-size sculptures : here is one known as Rudolf's building, 
the oldest part of the castle, a Gothic structure, then Rup- 
preeht's building, founded in the year 1400, by Rupprecht 
111., with beautiful Gothic windows, over which are the archi 
tect's arms, three small shields upon an escutcheon. This 
carving is taken by many to be some sort of a masonic mark, 
but is nothing of the land, but according to a little local guide, 
a coat of arms common to all German artists ; and an in- 
teresting legend as to its origin is told, which is to the effect 
that one da} r the Emperor Charles V. visited Holbein, the 
artist, and fou nd him busy painting at the top of a high scaf 



BOHANTIC OLD PILE. 353 

folding ; the emperor signed to the artist not to disturb him- 
self, and at the same time motioned to one of his suite to 
steady the tottering ladder; the young noble, however, think- 
ing it beneath his dignity to render such menial service to an 
artist, pretended not to understand the emperor, who there- 
upon advanced and steadied it himself, and commanded that 
from that time the German artists should be reckoned among 
the nobility of the empire, and their coat of arms should be 
such as Holbein decided upon. The artist then made choice 
of three small uniform silver shields on a blue field. 

Then we have other beautiful buildings fronting on the 
great court-yard, and named after their builders, who at dif- 
ferent periods made their contributions of architectural orna- 
ment to this romantic old pile. One of the most gorgeous 
is that known as Otto Heinrich's building, finished in 1559, 
restored twice, — the last time in 1659, and finally destroyed 
in 1764, — but the splendid front remains standing, and even 
now, in its partially ruined condition, excites admiration, with 
its splendid facade, rich to prodigality with statues, carvings, 
and decorations. Ludwig's building is another, into which 
we can go and see the great kitchen, with its huge fireplace 
and great hearth in the middle, where, on festal occasions, 
whole oxen were roasted. 

Near here is the castle well, fifty-four feet deep, with four 
pillars taken from Charlemagne's palace, to support its canopy, 
the pillars being those sent to Charlemagne by Rome for his 
royal edifice. Then comes Frederick's building, founded by 
Frederick IV. in 1601, rich in statues and sculpture, and un- 
der it a chapel, over the portal of which is inscribed, in Latin, 
the words of the Psalmist, — 

" This is the gate of the Lord ; 
The righteous shall enter into it." 

But we are bewildered with the different facades, towers, 
fronts, and buildings that succeed each other in this, what we 
now find to be a sort of agglomeration of castles, and so pass 
out to the great stone terrace or platform that looks down 
upon the town and the valley below. 
23 



351 WONDERS OF THE CASTLE. 

These old castle-builders did have an eye for the beauti- 
ful ; and a grand point for observation is this great terrace. 
Only fancy a broad stone platform, seventy or eighty feei 
long by thirty feet wide, midway up the front wall of an 
elegant castle, rich in architectural beauty, the terrace itself 
with heavy cut stone rails, vases, seats, arid ornamental stone 
bowers at the corn ers, while spread out far below and before 
the spectator lies one of the loveliest landscape views that can 
be imagined. We can look right into the streets of the town 
directly below us ; beyond is the winding River Neckar, with 
its beautiful arched bridge, and beyond that a vine-clad height 
known as the Holy Mountain ; on one side is the lovely val- 
ley of the Neckar, romantically and luxuriously beautiful as 
it stretches away in the distance. The town of Heidelberg 
itself is squeezed in between the castle hill and the Rivei 
Neckar, which widens out below the town, and finally unites 
with the Rhine, which we see in the distance, and beyond it 
blue mountains, binding in the distant horizon, frame in the 
charming picture. 

I cannot, of course, describe, in the limits of a sketch, the 
massiveness, vast extent, and splendor of this castle, the pro- 
duction of thr^e centuries, — commenced when the crusades 
were at their height, and not finished till long later cannon 
were in use; so that we mark the progress and changes of 
ar(hiLtr«:-'."iire in each century, and cannot but feel that, in some 
respects, the builders of old times were in advance of those 
of the present day. One might stay here weeks, and enjoy 
the romantic scenery of the vicinity and the never-ending 
new discoveries which he makes in this picturesque old ruin. 
In 1689 the French captured the place and undertook to blow 
up the principal round tOAver ; it was so solidly and compact- 
ly built, however, that the enormous mass of powder they 
placed under it, instead of lifting the great cylinder into the 
air to fall back a heap of ruins, only broke off :i third part of 
it, which toppled over entire in one solid chunk, and it lies 
as it fell, broken off from the main body as if by the stroke 
of a gigantic mallet, and exposes the wall of close knit ma 
sonry twenty feet in thickness. 



THE GREAT TUN. 355 

We wander through halls, court-yards, vaulted passages, 
deep dungeons, and lofty banquet halls, into round and square 
towers ; cross a regular broad old drawbridge wide enough 
for a troop of mail-clad knights to ride out from the great 
arched entrance, which stands in good preservation, with its 
turrets and posts for warders and guards, and there is the 
huge, deep castle moat and all, just as we have read about 
them, or seen them illustrated in poetic fictions. 

We pass out upon a sort of long spur or outwork from the 
castle — a kind of outer battery, which is styled the great 
terrace, and was built in 1615 — a charming promenade, upon 
which is a mall, shaded by trees, and from which we gel 
another picturesque view of the scene below, and of the 
castle itself. 

But we must not leave Heidelberg Castle without seeing 
the Great Tun ; and so we pay our kreutzers to the little maid 
who acts as guide, and descend below, to the cellars of the 
famous wine-bibbers of old. We came to a cellar in which 
there was a big barrel indeed, as it held two hundred hogs- 
heads of wine ; but this not coming up to the expectations 
of some of the party, there were expressions of dissatisfac- 
tion, until our guide informed us that this was only the front 
cellar, where they used to keep twelve little barrels of this 
size, and pointed out the raised platforms upon which they 
used to stand ; but the great barrel was in the back cellar. 
So we followed in, and found a big barrel indeed, large as a 
two-story house, thirty-two feet long and twenty-six feet 
high. It holds eight hundred hogsheads of the vinous fluid, 
and its contents fill two hundred and thirty-six thousand 
bottles. The diameter of the heads of this big barrel is 
twenty-two feet, and the circumference of the centre two 
hundred and thirty-one feet. The bung-hole of this great 
cask, however, seems more out of proportion than an ele- 
phant's eye, for it measured scarcely four inches in diameter. 
Steps lead around the tun, and up to its top, upon which is 
laid a platform, on which a cotillon has been danced by 
enthusiastic visitors. Remember, this is down ceUar. If 



556 the king's seat. 

they keep barrels of this kind down cellar, the reader may 
imagine th« size of the house above, and, jjeihaps, the drink- 
ing capacities of those who used to inhabit it. 

A beautiful carriage road, passing the ruined walls, and 
leaving them below, leads up to a pretty chalet, three nun- 
dred feet above the castle ; and here, one day, we halted on 
the rocky platform, and gladdened the heart of the landlord 
by an order for lunch for the party, which was spread for us 
in the garden, from which we could look down into the ruins 
of the old castle, upon the town below, and the winding 
river. We were not permitted to enjoy our al fresco repast, 
for a thunder stomi came rolling up the valley, and we were 
hustled in doors, where, however, we found the host was pre- 
pared for such emergencies, as our viands were spread out in 
an apartment with a glass side, looking towards the valley, 
so that we sat there, and watched the great gusts sweep up 
the river, and the rain come swirling down in sheets of rat- 
tling drops, amid the peals of thunder that echoed and rever- 
berated between the hills, and finally swept past with the 
shower, angrily muttering in the distance, as though the 
spirits of the Hartz Mountains and Black Forest were 
retiring before the fairies of the valley, who went sweeping 
after them in great clouds of shining mist, overarched by a 
gorgeous rainbow. 

We enjoyed the prospect from this place, which was the 
site of the ancient castle, traces of which still remain, and 
then took carriage for the Konigsstuhl, or King's Seat, a 
round tower far above us. A ride of about an hour through 
the dripping woods, with the vegetation bright and fresh 
from the recent shower, brought us to this elevation, which is 
eight hundred and fifty feet higher than the castle, and seven- 
teen hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea. 

Upon the summit of the King's Seat, a round stone tower 
ninety feet in height, is erected, which we ascended, and 
were rewarded with a still more extensive view than any we 
had previously had of the surrounding country. In one direc- 
tion is the dai'k and sombre foliage of the Black Forest ; iD 



PIPES AND BEER. 357 

anotkei, the picturesque mountains and valleys of the (Men- 
wald; in another, we look down upon the old castle and 
town far beneath, and see the River Rhine winding away off 
through the landscape, like a crinkled ribbon of steel ; there 
are the Hartz Mountains, of which we have read so many old 
German legends, in which wehr wolves, and mysterious 
huntsmen, who wound magic horns, figured. Far in the dis- 
tance, beyond the dark-green forests, we descry, with oui 
field-glass, the cathedral spire of Strasburg. Turn whichever 
way we may, the view is superb, and the hill is indeed a 
kingly seat, for it commands as magnificent a prospect as 
king could wish to look upon. 

Heidelberg is a paradise of pipes — so I thought till I 
reached Vienna ; but meerschaums of splendid carving and 
quality are sold here at prices so low, in comparison with 
what they cost in America, that the temptation to smokers 
to lay in a stock is almost irresistible. Malacca joint canes, 
with elegantly carved pure ivory handles, are another article 
that is marvellously cheap here, twenty francs (four dollars, 
gold) purchasing the best and most elaborate patterns, the 
grips or handles of which were wrought into figures of fruit, 
flowers, wreaths, and heads of birds and animals. The shop 
windows held many pictures of students' clubs, — some clubs 
famed for the number of glasses of beer their members could 
guzzle, he being elected president who could hold the most 
of that liquid — in fact, who made the biggest beer barrel of 
himself. In other windows were displayed huge horas, with 
a silver cup, and a tall mug, of huge capacity, said to repre- 
sent the draught of the presidents of two rival clubs, — sup- 
posed to be what they could swill at a single pull. 

The beer halls frequented by the students are similar to 
the great lager beer saloons in this country ; and, in the even- 
ing, the tables are thronged with students, talking, discuss- 
ing questions, playing dominoes, smoking, and drinking. 
There is a tremendous clatter of voices, and the smoke is so 
thick — well, none but Germans and Spaniards could live iv 
such a dense cloud. 



858 BADEN-BADEN. 

The University of Heidelberg, which is the oldest m Ger 
many, .1 think was founded in 1386. The university build- 
ings — which are very old, sonic of them erected in 1693 — 
are plain and unpretending in their appearance. The great 
library here contains over two hundred thousand volumes, 
and many curious manuscripts, which we did not inspect, as 
they are of interest chiefly to scientific scholars, and only 
accessible between the hours of ten and twelve in the fore 
noon. There is but little in the town of Heidelberg itself to 
interest the tourist. The great attraction is the noble old 
castle, and the romantic highlands about it. 

A three hours' ride from Heidelberg, and we are at Baden- 
Baden, that gayest of the gay watering-places on the conti- 
nent. We are driven to our hotel, the Hotel de l'Europe, a 
most charming house, large, clean, and splendidly kept by 
hosts who thoroughly know their business, and entirely free 
from any of the extortions, swindles, and sharp practices 
which disgrace our Saratoga and Newport hotels. Indeed, 
everything in the hotels in Baden-Baden is so comfortable to 
the tourist, so pleasant, and even luxurious, and at such com- 
paratively moderate cost, that one is half inclined to think 
the proprietors of them may be interested in the gambling 
bank, and have an object in making their houses too agree- 
able to leave with a short visit. There are three proprietors 
to this hotel ; and always one, and generally two, are in con- 
stant attendance in the lower halls and at the table d'hote, 
to attend personally to their guests, to answer all questions, 
and, in fact, to serve them in every way possible, which, it is 
but justice to say, is done in the most unexceptionable manner. 

The Hotel de l'Europe is wide, deep, and cool ; the broad 
staircase in the centre is ornamented with pretty flowers in 
pots, and running and trailing plants twining about the bal- 
usters, all the way up to the second story. Directly beneath 
my window is a beautiful strip of flower-garden, and the 
fresh air comes in at the casement laden with the odors of 
roses, carnation pinks, honeysuckles, and a score of other 
beautiful flowers, which are blooming in profusion. Beyond 



PICTORIAL LEGENDS. 359 

Lids little garden, say twenty or thirty feet from the hotel, 
runs the little River Oos, over a smooth-paved, artificial bed 
of stone — a swift, clear, sparkling little stream, of scarce 
three feet deep, and its width of not more than a score, 
spanned by little rustic bridges, connecting the grounds of 
the different hotels that are strung along its banks with the 
opposite shore, which is the broad, high road, along which the 
numerous gay equipages which frequent watering-places are 
continually passing. 

Beyond the road, beneath shady trees, is the Trink Halle, 
or, as the English have dubbed the place, the pump-room, 
probably because there is no pump there, except the natural 
one of the springs, whose mineral waters are conducted into 
ornamental fountains, which the drinkers and bathers visit at 
seven A. M., to the inspiriting and lively music of an excel- 
lent band. This pump-room is a long, one-story building, 
two hundred and seventy feet long and thirty-six wide, the 
facade resting on sixteen Corinthian pillars. Beneath the 
facade, and upon large panels of the building behind the colon- 
nade of pillars, are fourteen great frescoes, executed by an 
artist named Gotzenbreger, and representing pictorially some 
of those wild legends and weird stories of magic and enchant- 
ment for which Germany is so noted. 

Baden, be it remembered, lies at the entrance of the cele- 
brated Black Forest, popularly inhabited by various powerful 
enchanters, gnomes, dwarfs, and sprites. These great pictures 
were all handsomely executed, but the weather, to which they 
are partially exposed, is rapidly fading away their rich tints. 
There was one, representing a beautiful, light-haired, blue- 
eyed German girl, with but a light drapery flowing around her 
shapely limbs as she walked down to a mountain stream with 
her arm on the neck of a snow-white stag : an entranced hunts- 
man knelt upon the opposite bank, gazing at this lovely vision ; 
and while he gazed, one busy gnomo was twisting a tough 
bramble about his ankle, another huge-headed fellow was 
reaching out from beneath a rock, and severing his bow- 
string while a third, a sturdy, belted and hooded dwarf was 



860 SABBATH AMUSEMENT. 

robbing his quiver of its arrows : all around, the rocks looked 
out in curious, wild, and grotesque faces ; they leered from 
the crags, grinned from pebbles in the water, or frowned 
awfully from the great crags above the hunter, who, dazzled 
by the enchantress, sees nothing of this frightful scene, which 
is like the figures of a troubled dream — thoroughly phantas- 
magoric and German. Another picture shows a brave knight 
just on the point of espousing a weird lady before an abbot, 
the satanic glare of whose eyes betrays his infernal origin; 
cock-crow has evidently prevented these nuptials, as at one 
side chanticleer is represented vigorously sounding his clarion, 
and in the foreground lies another figure of the same knight 
in a deep sleep. Other scenes represent encounters of shep- 
herds \Y ith beautiful water-sprites or Undines of the mountain 
lakes and rivers, knights at enchanted castles, and sprites in 
ruined churches, each one being the pictorial representation of 
some well-known legend of the vicinity. 

We arrived at Baden on Saturday, after dark, and I was 
roused Sunday morning to look out upon the scene I have 
described, by the music of a magnificent band, which com- 
menced with the grand hymn of Old Hundred ; then a piece 
from Handel; next came the grand "Wedding March of 
Mendelssohn ; and we looked from our windows to see throngs 
of people promenadmg up and down the piazza in front of the 
Trink Halle, to the inspiriting harmony, or coming in every 
direction from the different hotels and pensions, or boarding 
houses, for their morning drink of spring-water. Gradually 
the music assumed a livelier character, till it wound up with 
sprightly quadrilles and a lively polka, played with a spirit 
that would almost have set an anchorite in a dancing fever. 

A fit illustration was this of the regard for the Sabbath in 
this headquarters of the enemy of man, where, at noon, the 
great doors of the gambling-house swung open, and the 
rouge-et-noir and roulette tables were at once thronged with 
players, without intermission,' till midnight. 

This great gaming-house, which has been so often described, 
is styled the Conversation-hans, and is beautifully fitted np 



satan's sis are baited. 861 

with, drawing-rooms, lofty and elegant ball-room, with eaoh 
end opening out into magnificent gardens, that are rich in 
parterres of flowers, shady alleys, beautiful trees, fountains, 
and statues. During the afternoon and evening these gardens 
j.vre thronged, the magnificent band plays the choicest of 
music, elegautly-dressed jjeople saunter amid the trees and 
flowers, or sit at little tables and sip light wines, eat ices, and 
chat; you hoar German, French, English, and Italian amid 
the clatter ol voices in any momentary lull of the music; you 
may order your ice-cream in any of these languages, and a 
waiter is at hand to understand and serve you; you may 
spend the whole clay in this beautiful sf>ot, enjoy music that 
you gladly pay a concert price at home to hear, without a 
penny expense, or even the remotest hint for remuneration 
from any servant, except it be for the refreshments you ordei 
— for the proprietor of the gaming establishment gladly de- 
frays all the expenses, for the privilege he enjoys exclusively, 
and he pays besides the sum of sixty thousand dollars per 
annum; so we enjoy it somewhat freely, although we cannot 
help reflecting, however, that those who really bear the ex- 
pense are the victims insnared in the glittering and alluring 
net which they themselves help to weave. 

From the flutter of passing butterflies of fashion, the clatter 
of tongues, the moving throng, and rich strains of music, we 
pass through the noiselessly swinging doors that admit us 
to the almost hushed inner court of the votaries of chance. 
Here, as at Wiesbaden, the only voices above a subdued tone 
are those of the dealers, with their regular formula of ex- 
pression, while ever and anon, following the rattle of the 
roulette wheel, comes the clink of the gold and silver which 
the presiding high priests of Mammon rake into the clutches 
of the bank. People of every grade, nation, and profession 
jostle each other at these tables. Here all meet on a common 
level, and rank is not recognized. The only rank here is the 
guinea-stamp, and that, if the possessor conduct himself in 
an orderly manner, insures prince and peasant an equal chance 
at the tables. The language used is French. 



362 AMONG THE GAMBLERS. 

I have seen brautiful young ladies, scarce turned nineteen, 
seated here next iheir young husbands, with whom they were 
making their bridal tour, jostled by the elegant Parisian mem- 
ber of the demi-monde, whose noble "friend" hands her a 
thousand francs to enjoy herself with for a while ; young 
students, trembling, eager old men ; raw Americans, taking 
a " flyer ; " and sometimes astonishing the group by the mag- 
nitude of their bets ; old women, Russian counts, who com- 
mence by getting several notes changed into a big pile of 
gold, which steadily diminishes beneath the assaults they 
make on the bank, with as little effect as raw infantry char- 
ging against a fortified breastwork; nay, I even saw the 
sallow countenance of a Turk, looking on from beneath his 
fez cap, while its owner fumbled uneasily at his girdle till he 
had detached his purse, and gratified his curiosity by losing a 
few gold pieces ; professional gamblers, sharpers, women of 
uncertain character; old, young, and middle-aged, all sacrifi- 
cing at the same shrine. 

"But some win?" 

Yes, and the very ones whose success is least expected. 
Old habitues will study the combination of figures for weeks, 
and keep a record of the numbers, and the order in which 
they turn up, and then, having, by mathematical certainty, 
made sure of lucky numbers, stake — and lose. The croupiers 
go on regularly, mechanically, and, unmoved by success 01 
loss, or whatever takes place about them, they rake in heavy 
Ktakes, and pay out huge 1 tsses, without moving a muscle of 
iheir countenances, or betraying the least emotion, raking in 
a huge stake while I was watching the game that made even 
the old habitues glare at the player, without even so much as 
a glance at him, and paying out a big loss with only the 
simple dialogue, — 

" Billets du banque ? " 

" JVon." 

And a dozen rouleaux of twenty-franc pieces were pushed 
over to the winner. 

I saw one of these unexpected winners, in the person of a 



SCENE AT THE TABLE. 363 

young Heidelberg student, who commenced with a couple of 
Napoleons (forty francs). He won ; doubled his stake, won 
again ; doubled, and won again ; then he took up the pile of 
gold, and placed two double Napoleons (eighty francs) on 
a single number; it came up, and the bank paid him the 
amount won, which was fifteen or twenty times the amount 
of his stake ; he put this whole heap on rouge (red), and the 
ball fell in rouge, and he won, and the amount was doubled ; 
he moved the increased heap to noir (black), and won again ! 
He pulled the heap of loose gold, rouleaux, and notes to- 
wards him ; players looked up, an obsequious servant brought 
a chair for him to sit down, and two or three friends gathered 
at his back ; he crammed gold and notes — all but five twenty- 
franc pieces — promiscuously into his pantaloons pocket, bet 
those five on the red, won ; moved the ten to the black, won 
again; the twenty to another figure, and won thrice his 
stake. 

By this time other players began to follow him in their 
bets ; he put forty francs on a single number, and half a 
dozen players crowded their bets on to the same. 

It lost. 

Nothing daunted, they followed him, and rained down 
their Napoleons upon the black; this time they were re- 
warded ; black won. 

The student pocketed his heap of gold again, all except 
five pieces, and then with that capital bet again ; lost three 
of the five ; tried a single number with one Napoleon, lost, 
of course ; put the other on the black, won again ; balanced 
the two pieces on his fingers for a moment, while half a 
dozen players were watching him, and then put one on the 
black ago in, which in an instant was almost obscured by 
the thick plating of metal that followed the lead of his stake 
from other players. 

" Rouge, dix-huitP 

Down came the croupier's rake, and away rattled the glit- 
tering heap towards the banker, while the student smilingly 
balanced his remaining Napoleon ir a sort of uncertain man- 



364 THE BAZAAB. 

tier on his forefinger, then turned and whispered a word to 
his friends, rose and tossed the twenty francs magnificently 
to the servant w ho had handed him a chair, and who was 
still behind him, and then, with bulging pockets, walked 
away. 

Baden is beautifully situated, and its scenery and sur- 
roundings charming. A broad, well-kept, and shady avenut- 
commences opposite our hotel, and affords a splendid drive 
uf over two miles, and, like the drive at Newport, is fre- 
quented by gay equipages during the fashionable season 
Then there are the old and new castles above the town 
reached by winding and romantic roads, and from the summit 
of the former a fine view of the valley of the Rhine, and 
the beautiful valley of Baden, with its great hotels, elegant 
grounds, and pretty villas. 

The bazaar, a sort of open-air fair of booths, in a pleasant 
grove, not far from the grounds of the Conversation-haus, is 
another novelty, and an attractive one to foreigners ; for here 
is a collection of all those miscellaneous trinkets that tourists 
load themselves down with, such as carved wood of Switzer- 
land, garnets from Prague, worsted work from Berlin, shaded 
photographs from Munich, all sorts and kinds of sleeve-but- 
tons, breast-pins, shawl-pins, ivory carvings, ribbons, crystals 
from the Alps, leather work from Vienna, and a thousand 
and one cuiious and pretty articles to tempt the taste of 
purchasers. 

We left the beautiful Hotel de l'Europe, with its pleasant 
rooms, elegant table d'hote, and prompt attention, with 
regret, for two reasons : one, that it was so agreeable a place 
of rest ; and the other, that the price, at this most expensive 
of the hotels, with all its privileges, was less than two dollars 
per diem. 

Up and away, for we must see the grand old Cathedral of 
Strasburg — a two hours' journey; and here we are, at the 
magnificent portal of this edifice, founded by old King Clo- 
vis, in 510. The carvings above the portal are magnificent. 
Here are equestrian statues of Clovis, Dagobert, and other 



STRASBTTRG CATHEDRA!,. 365 

aid worthies, elegantly wrought, amid a wealth of rich tra- 
cery and carving ; but as the spectator looks up, up, up, at 
the magnificent cathedral tower and spire, soaring away into 
the air till it seems to have a needle-like sharpness, he gets 
almost dizzy with gazing ; and, upon being informed that the 
ascent of this highest spire in the world is not unattended 
with danger, of course all Americans are seized with an un- 
controllable desire to ascend it ; and so were Ave. 

So we took a look at the splendid front, with the two 
great square towers, something after the style of those of 
York Minster or Westminster Abbey, Avith a huge rose AA r in- 
do\v betAveen them; the elegant Gothic architecture of 
arches, pillars, and points ; the grand, arched portal, croA\ T ded, 
every inch of it, with carving and statues ; and finally, up 
again at the light steeple, which, from one of the square 
tOAvers, rose into the air with such grace and boldness. 

We enter direct from the street, pay the custodian at the 
foot of a flight of stairs of easy ascent, and, ladies and all, 
begin the climb-up. We go till we haA r e trodden over three 
hundred and thirty stairs, and find ourselves two hundred 
and thirty feet above the street, upon a place called the plat- 
form. Here are sevei-al rooms, and a custodian "lives up here, 
who acts as a watchman for fires, has general charge of the 
place, keeps a visitors' register, and sells stereoscopic A'iews. 
The panoramic view from here is superb, and this point, 
Avhich is about two thirds of the way up, is as high as ladies 
generally ascend ; for the remainder of the ascent, which is 
by circular staircases on four sides of the toAver, required 
some nerve and steadiness of head, the masonry being of 
open-work, with the apertures nearly large enough for the 
body to pass through, while the staircases, AA'hich are winding 
and narrow, are likely to provoke an attack of giddiness. I 
could compare the ascent to nothing but an ant climbing a 
corkscrew. Every turn brought us to these great wrought 
openings, which, from the ground, appeared like delicate lace- 
work, and which seemed to give one the feeling, as he went 
round and round, as if he were SAvinging and swaying in the 



3GC» . CLIMBING A SPIRE. 

network between heaven and earth; and ihe wind, which 
pipes, whistles, rushes, roars, and sighs, in every variety ot 
tone, and apparently from every point of the compass, owing 
to the innumerable and different-shaped openings, adds to 
this illusion. 

Breathless, we reach a circular gallery running round out- 
side, and at the top of the square part of the steeple, and 
pause, clinging to the stone- work of the balustrade to look at 
the fine view, which takes in Baden, the Black Forest, the 
Rhine, and the chain of the Jura, in the distance. 

Still higher ! Here we are at the base of a pyramid of 
light, ornamental turrets, which gradually converge towards 
a point, and support the " lantern " above us. The winding 
staircases in these turrets were also narrow, and through 
open stone-work, as before, till you reach the lantern, an en- 
closed observatory. Higher up is the " crown," which, as the 
steps leading to it are outside, and with no other protection 
than the wall to which they were fastened, we did not care 
to attempt. The total height of this lofty spire is four hun- 
dred and sixty-eight feet. 

The descent through the open-work spire to the platform 
where the ladies were left was far more trying to the nerves 
than the ascent. In ascending, one is continually looking up, 
and the open spaces in the stone-work have the appearance 
of passages through which you are to pass, but continually 
avoid by the winding of the staircase ; but in descending, 
the gaze being directed downward, you have the vast height 
continually before the view ; the huge apertures, which appear 
at your very feet at every turn, seem like yawning crevasses, 
through which to shoot your body into the blue distance, or 
on to the Gothic points and pinnacles that are far, far below. 
I clung to the rope and iron hand-rails convulsively, and 
nm not ashamed to mention that, more than once, as I came 
to the more elaborate open-work of this stone filigree, which 
seemed to dangle between heaven and earth, I closed my 
eyes, and followed the rail, feeling the way downwards. The 
descent was made almost in silence, and there was a sigh of 



A GRAND INTERIOR. 367 

relief when the platform was reached,' aud we joined the 
ladies again. 

The open-work that one encounters in the turrets during 
the ascent of the spire, although scarcely large enough to 
admit the passage of a man's body, is so frequent, and so 
directly on the staircases, which are winding and narrow, as 
to give the semblance of great danger and insecurity, though 
comparatively very little exists. The only thing to be feared 
is giddiness, which might render it difficult for the adventurer 
to go up or down, after reaching a certain point ; and it is, 
therefore, not advisable for those liable to be affected in that 
manner to attempt the ascent above the gallery, which really 
adds very little to the view. 

Viewed architecturally, Strasburg Cathedral seems to bring 
together all the styles or orders of architecture of the mid- 
dle ages, from the simplicity of the Byzantine to the Gothic, 
with its arches and excess of superfluous ornament. The 
facade of the church, and especially the portal, is so elab- 
orately ornamented with carved work as to convey the im- 
pression of chasing, instead of sculpture. The figures in 
bass-relief and carving represent scenes in the life of the 
Saviour, the saints, and the apostles, besides statues of kings 
and warriors. 

A \lew of the interior is grand and impressive. Fourteen 
great cluster pillars uphold the lofty Gothic arched roof, over 
a hundred feet above the pavement. Midway, and above 
arches that unite the pillars, is a beautiful Gothic gallery 
on both sides, and many of the great stained-glass windows, 
re] iresenting scriptural subjects, are of wondrous beauty. 

In the nave is a beautiful pulpit, built in 1486, and covered 
with little statues, delicately carved, and not far from it the 
organ, up midway between the floor and arched ceiling. The 
perspective view in these old cathedrals is grand, and figures 
hardly give one an idea of their vastness. This cathedral is 
five hundred and twenty-five feet long, one hundred and 
ninety-five feet in width, and is one of the finest of those 
wonderful monuments of religious art that rose during the 
middle aares. 



868 THR STRASBURG CLOCK. 

The great astronomical clock liere is a curious and wonder- 
ful piece of mechanism. Fancy a structure twenty-five or 
thirty feet in height, and twelve or fifteen broad at the base, 
having on either side two others nearly of equal height, one 
being the masonic flight of winding stairs, surmounted by five 
small emblematical Corinthian pillars, and the other a Gothic 
pillar, its panellings enriched with figures. 

Placed directly in front of the base of the clock is a celes- 
tial globe, which, by means of the clock-work, shows the 
precession of the equinoxes, solar and lunar equations for 
calculating geocentric ascension and declination of the sun 
and moon at true times and places. Then in the base itself 
is an orrery after the Copernican system, by which the mean 
tropical revolution of each of the planets, visible to the naked 
eye, is shown. Then comes an ecclesiastical calender, a sort 
of j^erpetual almanac, indicating holy, feast, and fast days ; 
above, and about ten feet from the floor, and just beneath the 
clock-dial, is an opening with a platform in front, upon which 
come forth figures representing each day of the week, as 
Apollo on Tuesday, Diana on Monday, &c. Thus a figure in 
a chariot representing the day appeared at the entrance in the 
morning, it had reached the centre in full view by noon, and 
drove gradually out of sight at the close of day. On either 
side of the clock-dial sat two Cupids, the size of a three-years- 
old child, one holding a bell and hammer, with which it strikes 
the hours and quarters, and the other an hour-glass, which it 
reverses each hour. Above is another dial, with the signs of 
the zodiac ; above that a figure of the moon, showing its dif- 
ferent phases, also put in motion by the clock-work; and, still 
above this, two sets of automaton figures, which appear only 
at twelve o'clock, at which time there is always a crowd 
gathered to witness their performance.. 

We viewed this wondrous piece of mechanism for an hour 
and witnessed the following movements : At quarter past 
eleven the Cupid near the dial struck one ; then from one ol 
the upper compartments ran forth the figure of a little child 
with a wand, and as he passed he struck one on a bell, and 



CUBIOUS MECHANISM. 869 

ran away (Childhood, the first quarter). Round whirl the 
wheels of time, and the second quarter chimes; but this time 
it is Youth that passes, and taps the bell with his shepherd's 
staff twined with flow T ers. Again, we reach the third quarter, 
and Manhood strides forth, the mailed warrior, and smites 
the sonorous' bell, ere he leaves the scene, three sounding 
blows with his trenchant weapon — the third quarter. Once 
more, the hands tremble on the point of noon; the fourth 
quarter is here, and Old Age, a feeble, bent figure, hobbles 
out, pauses wearily at the bell, raises a crutch, and taps four 
strokes, and totters away out of sight — " last scene of all," 
when, as a finale, the skeleton figure of Death, before whom 
all the four have passed, slowly raises his baton, which the 
spectator now discovers to be a human bone, and solemnly 
strikes the hour of twelve upon the bell. While he is en- 
gaged in this act, a set of figures above him, representing the 
twelve apostles, pass in procession before the Saviour, who 
blesses each as they pause before him in turn, and chanticleer, 
the size of life, perched upon the pinnacle of one of the side 
structures, lifts up his voice in three rousing crows, with out- 
stretched neck and flapping wings, while the Cupid on one 
side of the dial reverses the hour-glass for the sand to flow 
back, and the other also strikes the hour with his bell and 
hammer. 

Not far from this clock, in a sort of niched window, there is 
a sculptured figure, said to be that of the architect of this 
cathedral, represented as looking towards the entrance of 
the transept, and in such position as to attract attention and 
provoke inquiry — a cunning, device for perpetuating one's 
memory as long as the figure shall last. 

Before leaving this fine cathedral we are reminded of the 
ancient order of Masons by an enclosure opening out of one 
of the chapels, which is the area of the workhouse of the 
stone-cutters of the edifice. These Master Masons down to 
this day form a particular and exclusive society, which origi- 
nated in the days of the great master mason and architect of 
this cathedral, Erwin of Steinbach, who rebuilt the nave in 
24 



370 THE CLOCK AT BASLE. 

1275, commenced the facade of the church, designed its towers, 
and superintended the work and the carrying out of the grand 
designs in its construction through various vicissitudes till his 
death in 1318. 

The masons of this cathedral were distinct from other 
operative masons, did not admit all who presented themselves, 
and had secret signs, knoAvn only to each other. From the 
lodge of this cathedral emanated several others in Germany 
and a general meeting of the masters was held at Ratisbon 
in 1459, at which they were united under one government or 
jurisdiction, and the Grand Masters chosen on that occasion 
were the architects of the cathedral at Strasburg, in which 
city the Grand Lodge was then established. 

The Emperor Maximilian I. confirmed the establishment 
of this body October 3, 1498, and it remained here till the 
early part of the eighteenth century, when it was removed to 
Mayence. With this bit of masonic history we will bid adieu 
to Strasburg Cathedral. 

The Church of St. Thomas looks interior after it, though 
its magnificent monument to Marshal Saxe is one of the 
sights of the city. As Ave ride through the streets we see 
long-legged storks soaring far overhead, and perched on a 
tall old chimney-stack, behold the brushwood nest of one of 
these long-billed residents. 

We view the bronze statue of Guttenberg, who made his 
first experiments in the newly-discovered art preservative of 
arts in this city in 1436, and four hundred years afterwards 
he is remembered in this bronze memorial. 

I don't know what it was in particular that made me wish 
to sec Basle, except it was, that when a youngster, I read of 
a curious old clock which the inhabitants on one side of the 
river put up to mock those on the other, which, the story said, 
it did by sticking out its tongue and rolling its eyes at every 
motion of the pendulum; so, when domiciled at the hotel 
of th 3 Three Kings in that ancient town, I looked out on the 
swift-flowing Rhine, and as I gazed at the splendid bridge ; 
nearly a thousand feet long, wondered if that was the one 



MEDIAEVAL SCENES. 371 

over which the wondrous head had ogled and mocked. Fancy 
my disappointment at being shown at the collection of an- 
tiquities a wooden face scarcely twice the size of life, which 
is said to be the veritable Lollenkonig, or lolling king, that 
used to go through this performance in the clock tower on 
the bank of the river till 1839. Here, in this collection, which 
is in a hall or vestry attached to the cathedral, we saw many 
curiosities ; among them the arm-chair of Erasmus ; for it was 
here in Basle that Erasmus, it will be recollected, waged 
bittor war with the Church of Rome; here also was preserved 
all that remains of the celebrated frescoes, the Dance of Death, 
painted in the fifteenth century, and ascribed to Holbein. 
The cathedral, a solid old Gothic structure, has some finely 
ornamented ancient arched portals, and its two towers are 
each two hundred feet in height. 

Going through some of the quaint, old-fashioned streets of 
Basle, we were struck with the quiet, antique, theatrical-can- 
vas-look which they had. Here was an old circular stone 
fountain, at which horses could drink and the people fill their 
jars ; the pavement was irregular, and the houses were of 
odd architecture, which we in America, who have not been 
abroad, are more than half inclined to think exist only in the 
imagination of artists, or are the fancy of scene-painters. 1 
came upon one of these very scenes which I have before re- 
ferred to, m this old city, and stood alone a quarter of an 
hour looking at the curious street that lay silent in the sun- 
shine, with scarce a. feature of it changed since the days of the 
Reformation, when Basle held so important a position in the 
history of Switzerland, and "Erasmus laid the egg that 
Luther hatched ; " and had a group of cavaliers in doublet 
and hose, or a soldier with iron cap and partisan, sauntered 
through the street, they would all have been so much in 
keeping with the scene as to have scarcely excited a second 
glance at them. 

In the evening we attended one of those cheap musical 
entertainments which are so enjoyable here in the summer 
season of the year It was given in a large building, one side 



S72 SWISS RAILWAYS. 

of which opened on the river hank; and while thirty piecet 
of music played grand compositions, sprightly "waltzes, or in- 
spiriting marches, we sat at the little tables, with hundreds of 
other listeners, who sipped light wines or beer, enjoyed the 
evening air, and looked out upon the dark cathedral towers, 
the lights of the town reflected in the swift stream of the 
Rhine, watched the small boats continually passing and re- 
passing, marked " the light drip of the suspended oar," com- 
i ug pleasantly to the ear, as they paused to listen to the mel- 
ody, while now and then the tall, dark form of some great 
Dutch lugger-looking craft of a Rhine boat moved past, like a 
huge. spectre out of the darkness — a dreamy sort of scene, 
the realization of old Dutch paintings, half darkened with 
age, that I have often gazed at when a boy. And all this 
fine music and pleasant lounge for half a franc (eleven cents). 

"Wines extra?" 

Yes. We called for a half flask, prime quality ; price, a 
franc and a half more ; total, forty-four cents. But then we 
were luxurious ; for beer that was " magnifique" could be had 
in a " gros pot " for three cents. 

We rode from Basle to Zurich in a luxurious, easy, comfort- 
able drawing-room car, which a party of us — six American 
tourists — had all to ourselves, and whirled through long tun- 
nels, and amid lovely scenery, in striking contrast to our hot, 
uncomfortable railroad ride from Strasburg to Ba&Ie. The 
Swiss railway carriages are on the American plan, and the 
line of the road itself kept in exquisite order. The houses of 
the switchmen were pretty little rustic buildings, covered with 
running flowering vines, plats of flowers before them, and not 
a bit of rubbish or a speck of dirt to be seen about them. 
The little country stations are neatly kept, and have flower 
gardens around them; and, as we passed one crossing where 
two roads met, a diamond-shaped plat, about twenty feet 
space, enclosed by the crossing of three tracks, was brilliant 
with its array of red, blue, and yellow flowers. At the sta- 
tions and stopping-places there seemed to be special pains 
taken to keep the rude, unsightly objects, that are seen at 



TRAVELLING IN SWITZERLAND. 373 

stations in America lying about uncared for, out of sight. 
Here, and in Germany, we notice the red poppy scattered in 
and growing among the wheat, which one would suppose 
must injure the grain ; but the people say not, though it im- 
parts, I think, a slightly perceptible bitter taste to the bread. 

We seem now to have got thoroughly into a land where 
they know how to treat travellers, that is, properly appreciate 
the value of tourist patronage, and treat them accordingly ; 
and well they may, for a large portion of the Swiss people 
make their living for the year off summer tourists. 

Notwithstanding this, and notwithstanding the English 
grumblers who scold at these better hotels, better railway 
accommodations, and better attention than they can get any 
where else, — notwithstanding the shoddy Americans, whose 
absui-d parade, lavish expenditure of money, ignorance, and 
boorish manners make them a source of mortification to edu- 
cated men, and have served, in France and Italy during the 
past few years, almost to double certain travelling expenses, 
— notwithstanding this, the traveller will be more honorably 
dealt with, and less liable to be cheated, in Switzerland than 
elsewhere in Europe. Efforts are made to induce travellers 
to come often, and stay long. Roads, passes, and noted points 
are made as accessible as possible, and kept in good order 
during the season. No impositions are allowed by guides, 
post-drivers, &c, and the hotel-keepers strive in every way to 
make their houses as attractive as possible in every respect to 
the guest, who enjoys the real luxury of an elegant hotel, in 
an attractive or celebrated resort, at a reasonable price, and 
does not suffer to that extent the same irritation that he ex- 
periences in England or America at such places — of knowing 
he is being deliberately swindled in every possible manner. 

Here we are in Zurich, — " by the margin of Zurich's fair 
waters," — at the Hotel Baur au Lac, fronting Lake Zurich — 
a large and beautiful hotel, with an extensive garden, with 
flowers, shrubs, and pretty walks in front of it. Our windows 
command a full view of the beautiful lake, with its sides en- 
livened with chalets, villages, vineyards, and a highly-culti- 



374 ZURICH AND ITS SCENERY. 

vated country, while in the background rise the snow peaks 
of the Alps, glittering in the morning sunlight, or rosy in its 
parting rays. There was the great Reiseltstock, looming up 
over eighty-six hundred feet, the Kammtistock, very nearly 
ten thousand feet, between which and the Scheerhorn is im- 
bedded a great glacier, the Bristenstock, and other " stocks " 
and " horns " that I have not noted down, and therefore for- 
gotten, save that even in the distance they looked magnifi- 
cently grand, and like great altars with their snowy coverings 
lifted up to heaven. 

The scenery of mountain, lake, and valley, seen from the 
promenades in Zurich, like grand pictures framed in the rim 
of the horizon, and presenting charming aspects, varied by the 
setting sun, give the tourist a foretaste of the picturesque 
beauty of the country he is now just entering. Lake Zurich, 
or the Zuricher See, as they call it, looked so pretty and 
romantic that we determined to embark on one of the little 
steamboats, and sail up and down it, to know and enjoy it 
better. So, after enjoying the creature comforts of the fine 
hotel, and fortified with a good night's rest, we embarked in 
the morning. 

This lake is twenty-five miles long, and, at its broadest part, 
two and a half miles wide. As we sailed along, we noted the 
beautiful slopes of the hills, which are finely cultivated at the 
base, close down to the little villages on the shore. Above 
are vineyards and orchards, and still farther up, the dark- 
green forests clothe the hills, which lift their frontlets twenty- 
five hundred feet above the clear mirror that reflects them on 
its surface. "We passed numerous picturesque little villages, 
making landings on alternate shores as we proceeded. Here 
was Thalwyl, charmingly situated, Horgen, with its hotel and 
charming garden ujaon the lake front, the picturesque little 
wooded peninsula of Au, and a pretty little village of Manne- 
dorf, behind which rises a romantic height, called some sort 
of a " stiel " or " horn." And so we glided along, sometimes 
stopping at little villages that seemed, as we approached 
them, children's toys upon a green carpet, this effect height 



LAKE ZURICH. 375 

ened by the huge mountains, which rose grand and sublime in 
the distance ; but they had all that novelty so charming to 
the tourist — their odd-shaped little churches, and curious 
and quaint houses nestling in romantic nooks, and the occa- 
sional odd dress worn by peasants who had come clown from 
the interior, and the customs which to us seemed so old- 
fashioned. 

We found our steamer was a mail-boat, and at one station, 
instead of the usual official in waiting, the sole occupant of 
the little pier was a huge Newfoundland dog, who seized the 
little mail-pouch, holding perhaps a couple of quarts, that was 
tossed ashore, and galloped off with it at full sj>eed for the 
village, half a mile distant, to the infinite amusement of the 
spectators. He was the regular mail-carrier, performing the 
service twice a day of bringing down the mail-pouch, which 
he deposited on the pier on the arrival of the boat, and carry- 
ing back the one which was loft by it. 

We went on shore at a town bearing the delightfully- 
euphonious name of Rapperschwyl — a picturesque old place, 
with an old castle and church, and wooded heights, which 
command fine views. At this point a fine bridge, forty-five 
hundi*ed feet long, and supported by one hundred and eighty 
oaken pillars, crosses the lake. So we strolled over it, and 
through the town, which contains about two thousand inhab- 
itants, looked at the old church and castle, and then reem- 
barked on the return steamer, once more to admire the beauty 
of the scenery of the lake shores in this romantic region, and 
birthplace of Switzerland's freedom. 



THE RIGHI. 



CHAPTER X. 

N ow let us tighten our girdles for our first experience in 
Swiss mountain-climbing, for we start for Righi at nine A. M., 
on the summit of which we propose to see the sun set, and 
watch his rising on the morrow. Out of the handsome rail 
way station we ride in an elegant and comfortable car, and 
in two hours are at the steamboat landing at Lake Zug, one 
of the most picturesque sheets of water in Switzerland — an 
azure pond nine miles in length ; and, as we float upon its 
blue bosom, we see the object of our excursion, Righi-Kulm, 
which towers full forty-two hundred feet above the lake. 
The " Righi " consists of a group of mountains lying between 
the three Swiss lakes of Zug, Lucerne, and Lowerz, and " Righi- 
Kulm " is the Righi summit, or highest peak — fifty-five hun- 
dred and forty feet above the level of the sea. We disem- 
bark at Arth, get a bad dinner, or lunch, of tough chicken, 
poor soup, and bad claret, and start away for the foot of the 
mountain in an open carriage, with our saddle horses, mules, 
and guides rattling along behind us, for the ascent. Half an 
hour brings us to Goldau. 

Goldau! And as I stood on the high road, and looked 
over into what was once the little valley where stood the vil- 
lage, and marked the track of the tremendous avalanche of a 
thousand feet broad and a hundred feet thick, which started 
three thousand feet above, from the mountain, on its resistless 
career of destruction, my memory went back to days in the 
public schools of Boston, where, from that best of compilations 
as a school reader, John Pierpont's American First Class 
Book, we used to read the " Lament of a Swiss Minstrel ovej 
the Ruins of Goldau," commencing, — 

" O Switzerland, my country, 'tis to thee 
I strike my harp in agony, — " 



GUIDES AND ALPENSTOCKS. 377 

and in which the author describes the catastrophe, more 
graphically than grammatically, perhaps, as follows : — 

" .An everlasting hill was torn 
From its primeval base, and borne, 
In gold and crimson vapors dressed, 
To where a people are at rest. 
Slowly it came in its mountain wrath, 
And the forests vanished before its path, 
And the rude cliffs bowed, and the waters fled, 
And the living were buried, while over their head 
They heard the full march of their foe as he sped, 
And the valley of life was the tomb of the dead." 

But this avalanche occurred over half a century ago, and 
may be it is too old-fashioned to recall its story, though it will 
long live in historic record as destroying four villages, and 
overwhelming five hundred of their inhabitants. The sole 
trace of it now is the track of the avalanche on the side of 
the mountain, and some few huge bowlders piled together 
here and there in the valley, which have not been covered by 
the hand of time with vegetation. 

And here our party descended from the carriage, and 
mounted their horses preparatory to the ascent. A young 
physician and the author concluded that their first experience 
in Alpine travel should be pedestrian ; we therefore started 
up our mules, riderless, after the rest of the party, and, like 
all fresh tourists, stepped into a house here at the foot of the 
mountain to purchase our first alpenstocks. These, as every- 
one knows, are stout staffs, about six feet in length, with an 
iron spike at one end and a hook of chamois horn at the 
other — the latter ornament being generally an imitation, 
made of the head ornament of the common goat, blackened 
and i polished. Nevertheless, the alpenstocks are of great 
assistance; indeed, the tourist who makes any attempts at 
pedestrianism among the Alpine passes will find them almost 
an absolute necessity. 

Away went the string of mules and guides with our merry 
party on their winding way. The Swiss guides are excellent, 



378 CHEESE AND HONEY. 

and in mnny parts of the country they seem to be formed into 
associations, and under the best of regulations to prevent any 
imposition upon travellers, or the employment of unskilled 
guides. 

As an illustration of the- excellence of their regulations, we 
copy a few of those of the Righi guides : — 

" The horses must be sound and strong, the gear in good 
order. The chief of guides, who holds office under the super- 
intendence of the burgomaster, is responsible for the obser- 
vance of the regulations; and he shall maintain order among 
the guides, render assistance to travellers, and inform against 
any inn-action of the rules. Guides are forbidden to impor- 
tune travellers. Civility and sobriety are strictly enjoined, and 
guides are personally responsible for luggage intrusted to 
them. Guides are forbidden to ask for gratuities in excess of 
the regular tariff. The chief of guides has sole right to 
offer horses to tourists, without, however, dictating their 
choice," &c. 

Having procured our alpenstocks, we follow on over the 
broad, pleasant road of the first part of the ascent, through 
the woods, hearing the voices of our fellow-tourists, and now 
and then catching a glimpse of them, as they zigzag across 
the hill-side, and beat gradually up its steep height ; we begin 
to come to the little mountain waterfalls, foaming and tum- 
bling over the rocks on their way to feed the lake below ; pass 
through scenery of the character not unlike the commence- 
ment of the ascent of Mount Washington, in New Hamp- 
shire, until finally we reach a halting-place — " Righi Inn." 
Bread, cheese — pah! the very smell of it caused all to 
beat a retreat; and the inevitable Swiss honey, and good 
French wine, were offered here. Causing a removal of the 
cheese, we refreshed ourselves with the bread, wine, and 
honey, and, with renewed vigor, pushed on. 

Now the path is more open, we pass little crosses, or pray- 
ing-places, and can see them at intervals up the mountain ; 
they mark the halting-places of pilgrims to a little chapel 
above us, known as the chapel of " Our Lady of the Snow ; " 
and their frequency does not argue so much in favor of the 



CLIMBING THE ALPS. 379 

endurance of the pilgrims' powers of wind and muscle as it 
does of their devotion. This little chapel is inhabited by Cap 
uchin monks, was built in 1689, and pilgrimages are generally 
made to it and Mass celebrated once a year. 

After about two hours' climbing we find ourselves at a 
place called Oberes Diichli, and halfway up the ascent; now 
we leave the woods below, and begin to have a view of huge 
peaks rising all about us ; as we mount still higher, the air 
grows pure, bracing, and invigorating. Pedestrians think 
climbing the Alps is pastime, songs are sung with a will, and 
American songs, especially the choruses, make the guides 
stare with astonishment. 

Hurrah ! Here is Righi Staffel, four thousand nine hundred 
feet above the level of the sea, and a good hour's pull from 
our last halt ; and now our guides lead us out to a sort of 
bend in the pathway, and we begin to see what we have 
climbed to enjoy. From this bend, which overhangs, and 
seems to form, as it were, a sort of proscenium box of the 
scene, we look down on the grand view below us — Lake 
Lucerne, Arth, the road we have passed, the mountains swell- 
ing blue in the distance. 

What beautiful views we have had as we ascended ! An 
attempt at description would be but a series of rhapsodies. 
Let any one who has seen the view from the Catskill Moun- 
tains imagine the scene filled in with eight Swiss lakes shining 
in the sunlight, dozens of Swiss villages in the valleys, chap- 
els on the mountain-sides, ribbons of rivers sparkling in the 
distance, the melodious tinkle of cow-bells from the many 
herds on the mountain-sides below, coming up like the faint 
notes of a musical box, and the whole framed by a lofty chain 
of mountain peaks, that seem to rim in the picture in a vast 
oval. The view changed twenty times in the ascent, and a 
faint idea may be had of its grandeur and beauty. 

" But wait till you reach the Kulm, if you want to see a 
view," says one, pointing to the tip-top hotel of the mountain, 
on its great platfonn above us. 

" Will monsieur ride now ? 



380 GAINING THE SUMMIT. 

"Pshaw! No." 

The rest of the distance is so short — just up there — that 
monsieur, though breathless and fatigued, will do no such 
thing, and so sits down on a broad, flat stone, to look at the 
view and recover wind for the last brief " spurt," as he thinks ; 
and the guide, with a smile, starts on. 

We have learned a lesson of the deceptive appearance of 
distance in the mountains, for what appeared at most a ten 
minutes' journey, was a good half hour's vigorous climb 
before the hotel of Righi-Kulm was gained ; and we stood 
breathless and exhausted in the portico, mentally vowing 
never to attempt mountain climbing on foot when horses 
could be had — a vow with which, perhaps, the last portion of 
the journey over a path made slippery by a shower, making 
the pedestrian's ascent resemble that of the arithmetical frog 
in the well, whose retrogression amounted to two thirds of 
his progression, had something to do — and a vow which, it 
is unnecessary to say, was not rigidly adhered to. 

But Righi-Kulm was gained. Here we were, at a large, 
well-kept hotel. The rattle of the French, German, Italian, and 
English tongues tells us that Switzerland has attractions for 
all nations, and the fame of her natural scenery attracts all 
to worship at its shrine. A brief rest, after our nearly four 
hours' journey, and we are called out, one and all, to see the 
sun set. Forth we went, and mounted on a high, broad plat- 
form, a great, flat, table-like cliff, which, when contemplating 
the scene below, I could liken only to a Titanic sacrificial 
altar, erected to the Most High, it jutted out so towards 
heaven, with all the world below it. 

But were we to be disap23ointed in the sunset ? 

Look ! huge clouds are rising ; one already veils the sun, 
its edges crimsoned, and its centre translucent. A moment 
more and the cloudy veil is torn aside as by the hand of a 
genie, and as the red rays of the great orb of day blaze into 
our faces like a huge conflagration, a universal burst of admi- 
ration follows at one of the grandest and most magnificent 
views the eye of man can look upon. The sudden effect of 



MAGNIFICENT SPECTACLE. 38J 

the sunburst revealed a spectacle that was like a vision of 
the promised land. 

We realized now how " distance lends enchantment to the 
view." That blue atmosphere of distance, that seems to 
paint everything with its softening finish, is exquisite here. 
Lake Lucerne was at our very feet, and looked as though we 
might toss a pebble into it ; eight other lakes, calm and still, 
and looking like polished blue steel plates resting in the land- 
scape, flashed in the sunbeams, the little water-craft like motes 
upon their surface ; silver ribbons of rivers glittered on the 
bosom of the mountains like necklaces, while villages ap- 
peared like pearls scattered on the dark-green carpet below, 
and we looked right through a great rainbow, " the half of the 
signet ring of the Almighty," at one, and the landscape about 
it — a singular and beautiful effect. Villages, lakes, land- 
scapes were seen, as it were, through a river of light in a 
great panorama of hundreds of miles in extent, forming a 
view the grandeur and splendor of which it is impossible to 
describe. 

But while we are looking at this wondrous picture, the sun 
sinks lower, and we raise our gaze to the grand chain of 
mountains, whose edges are now fringed with fire, or their 
snow peaks glowing in rose tints, sending back reflections 
irom their blue glaciers, or sparkling in the latent rays. 

There rises the great chain of Bernese Alps. 

There are mountains — eight, ten, twelve thousand feet 
into the air. How sharply they are printed against the sky ! 
and how they roll away off towards the horizon in a great 
billowy swell, till lost in the far distance, the white-topped 
peak of one tall sentinel just visible, touched by the arrowy 
beam of the sun that glances from his icy helmet ! 

Look which way you may, and a new scene of surpassing 
beauty chains the attention. Here rises rugged old Pilatus, 
almost from the bosom of Lake Lucerne ; beyond Lucerne, the 
whole canton is spread out to view, with a little river crin- 
kling through it, like a strip of silver bullion thread ; away off. 
at one side, the top of the Cathedral of Zurich catches the 



382 A P.LEASANT SUEPKISB. 

eye ; down at our very feet, on the lake, is a little speck — 
Tell's Chapel ; right around us rise the Bighi group of moun 
tains green to their summits, and in contrast to the perpetua. 
snow mantles of the distant Bernese. But the sun, which has 
been like a huge glittering and red, flashing shield, is now 
only showing a flaming edge of fire behind the apj)arcntly 
tallest peak, making it look like the flame bursting from a 
volcano ; the landscape is deepening in huge shadows, which 
we can see are cast by the mountains, half obscuring it from 
view ; the blaze is fainter — it is extinguished ; a few moments 
of red, fiery glow where it sank, and anon a great, rushing 
group of clouds, and the blackness of night closes in, and the 
fierce rush of the Alpine wind is upon us. 

We turned and groped our way back to the house, whose 
brightly-lighted windows spoke of comfort within; and round 
the board at the meal, which served alike for dinner and sup- 
per, we exhausted the vocabulary of terms of admiration over, 
the grand spectacle we had just witnessed, which seemed 
worth a journey across the Atlantic to see. 

At the supper table, we fraternize with other Americans 
from different parts of our country ; and even the reserved 
and reticent Englishman finds it pleasant to converse, . or 
address a few words to those he has not been introduced to, 
it is "so pleasant to talk one's own language, you know." 
Out in a little sanded sitting-room, where cigars and warming 
fluids were enjoyed before retiring, the attention of us Amer- 
icans was attracted to an old and familiar friend, whose un- 
looked-for presence in this quarter was no less surprising 
than it was gratifying to our national pride. It was nothing 
more nor less than a print of Trumbull's well-known picture 
of the Battle of Bunker Hill, suspended over the mantel- 
piece. There were General Warren, falling into the arms of 
the shirt-sleeved soldier, and the British captain, pushing 
aside the bayonets that were thrust at his prostrate figure. 
There was Pitcairn, falling backwards from the redoubt, shot 
dead in the moment of victory by the colored soldier in the 
foreground. And there was old Putnam, waving his sword 



MIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP. 333 

over his head at th 3 advancing grenadiers — the very same 
old picture that eveiy one of us had seen in our histories and 
geographies in school-boy days. 

"The thing was neither rich nor rare, 
But how the devil it got there," 

away up at the top of one of the Alps, was the wonder. 

However, it is not to be wondered at that, after its dis- 
covery, the toast of America and Switzerland was drank, 
with all the honors. Now that the night had come down, 
we could hear the mountain wind roaring around the house, 
as if it were clamoring for admittance ; but the great clining- 
hall was full of light and cheerfulness ; tourists of different 
nationalities recounted their adventures in little groups, and 
the Swiss carved work, which was brought out and spread 
upon the tables for sale, found many purchasers among those 
who desired to preserve a memento of their visit to the top 
of Mount Rhigi. 

We were warned to retire early, as all would be roused at 
four A. M., next morning, to witness a sunrise, which we were 
assured was infinitely more grand than sunset. 

It was easier for me to get to bed than to sleep. The 
fatigue of the climb, the bracing effect of the atmosphere, 
the remembrance of the superb panorama, and, besides this, 
the rush, roar, and whistle of the mountain breeze which rat- 
tled at the casement, all served to banish sleep from my eyes 
till the time arrived when the horn should have sounded for 
sunrise; but it did not, because of the thick clouds, as I 
heard from the few restless ones who clattered through the 
corridors ; and so, relieved of the expectancy of the call, I 
sank into slumber, broken only by morning's light, although 
thick clouds veiled the god of day from view. 

There appeared no prospect of clear weather ; and so, after 
a late breakfast, our horses were ordered, and we began the 
descent, which, for the first half hour, was damp and cheerless 
enough, and made the coats and water-proofs we had been 
thoughtful enough to bring comfortable accessories. But, as 



384 THE YODLYN. 

we were slowly winding down the mountain, the clouds began 
to break ; the wind had changed ; gap after gap was rent in 
the vapor, which was rolled off at one side in great heaps ; 
the bright blue sky looked through the rifts, and the land- 
scape began to come out in great patches below ; away went 
the clouds ; what had seemed a great, dull curtain was broken 
up into sheets of billowy mist and huge patches of vapor, 
slowly rolling away in the distance, or heaping up in silvery 
banks ; and below once more came out the blue, quiet lakes, 
the white villages, and the lovely landscape, while above, 
even above the clouds themselves, would start great peaks, 
round which they clung like fleecy garlands. 

The rain-drops sparkled on the grass and bushes as I sat 
on a projecting cliff gazing at the scene, and the tram of my 
companions wound out of sight, their voices growing fainter 
and fainter, till lost in the distance, and all was silent. 
There was no song of bird, or chirp of insect — a mounlain 
solitude of stillness unbroken, when just below me came up 
that peculiar and melodious cry of the Alpine shepherd, 
" Ye-o-eo-o-leo-leo-leo-ye-ho-le-o," echoing and winding among 
the mountains, clear and bell-like, as it floated away. 

The yodlyn ! and this was the first time I had ever heard 
it in Switzerland. 

But listen ! 

Above where I stand comes a reply, clear and musical, 
mellowed by distance, the curious falsetto, the " yo-e-ho-o-leo," 
is returned, and scarcely ceases ere taken up, away across the 
valley, by an answering voice, so faint in the distance that it 
quavers like a flute on the ear. And so the herdsmen in 
these solitudes call and answer one another during their 
journeyings, or their lonely hours in the mountains. 

Now we wind down, through trees, herbage, and wild 
flowers. Here is an ocean of white and buff garden helio- 
tropes, monkshood, handsome lilac candytuft, and a flower 
in abundance which very much resembles the Mexican age- 
ratum. Now we come to a broad sort of open field, and a 
chalet* where we halted, and rested upon rustic seats at the 



LUCERNE. 385 

door, while the horses were baited. While we sat here, the 
officious host branded our Alpine stocks with the names of 
Goldau and Righi, showing that we had passed those points. 
At this place, the open field was rich in sweet red-clover, 
and pretty little flowers, like dwarfed sweet-peas. As we 
rode on, the air was melodious with the tinkling of the bells 
of the mountain herds, and the woods and fields rich in wild 
white roses and numerous other flowers. 

At length we reached Kussnacht,on Lake Lucerne ; and, em- 
barking on a little steamboat, we glided along past the beauti- 
ful slopes of the Righi range, having a fine view of the 
frowning peak of Pilatus, and some towering snow-clads in 
the distance. Finally we rounded a point, and there lay 
Lucerne, in a sort of natural amphitheatre, fronting on the 
blue lake, and between the Righi and Pilatus on either 
side. Upon the whole length of the long quay is a broad 
avenue of shady chestnut trees ; then, strung all along be- 
hind it, are the great hotels ; and in the background, running 
over on the heights above the town, are the walls and watch- 
towers, the whole forming a most charming and picturesque 
scene. 

The steamer glides up to the stone pier almost opposite to 
the great hotel, where our rooms had been engaged and lug- 
gage forwarded, and in a few minutes more the officious por- 
ters have us domiciled in fine apartments in the " Schweizer- 
hof," where we proceed to remove the stains of travel and 
mountain climbing, enjoy the luxury of a good bath, and in 
other ways prepare for the table d'hote. 

The Schweizerhof is a splendid hotel, and, with its depen- 
dencies, accommodates some three hundred or more guests. 
It is admirably kept, the rooms clean, well furnished, and 
airy, and the front commanding a superb view of the lake, 
Mount Pilatus, Righi, and a whole range of Alps, green hill- 
sides, rocky crags, or great snow-clads, running up five, six, 
seven, and eight thousand feet high. A picture it seemed 
we could never tire gazing at, as we sat at our windows look- 
ing at them, and the blue lake, with its steamboats coming 
25 



586 CURIOUS OLD BRIDGES. 

and going, row-boats and pleasure sail-boats gliding hithc. 
and thither. In this house is a reading-room for ladies and 
gentlemen, with English, French, German, and Italian news- 
papers, books and magazines, a billiard-room, pretty garden, 
and great dining-room, with conservatory at one end of it, 
filled with plants and birds. A fountain in the room spouts 
and flashes merrily during the dinner hour, and a band of 
music plays. There are waiters and porters who speak 
French, German, Italian, and English, and hearing the latter 
spoken on every side so frequently, seeing so many Ameri- 
cans, and the ladies going through with the usual display of 
dress and flirtations as at home, it was difficult to imagine 
that we were not at some Saratoga, or Newport, and that 
a few hours by rail would not bear us to Boston or New 
York. 

The sights in Lucerne are few and easily seen, the princi- 
pal attraction being the loveliness of the situation. The 
River Reuss emerges from the lake at this point, and rushes 
off at a tremendous rate, and two of the curious old wooden 
bridges that span it are features of the place ; they are roofed 
over and partially enclosed. In the inner triangular com- 
partments of the roof of the longest are a series of over a 
hundred pictures, illustrating scenes in the lives of saints and 
in the history of Switzerland ; in the other the Dance of Death 
rs quaintly and rudely dej)icted; picturesque old places these 
bridges, cool and shady for a summer afternoon's stroll. 

The great attraction in the old cathedral in Lucerne is the 
fine organ, which all visitors go to hear played; and we strolled 
in on a quiet summer's evening, after dinner, to listen to it. 
The slanting beams of the sun gleamed through the stained- 
glass windows, and lighted up some of the old carved wood 
reliefs of the stalls in the church, as we took our seats, with 
some fifty or sixty other tourists, here and there in the body 
of the house ; and soon the music began. First there were 
two or three hymns, whose jmre, simple melody was given 
with a grace and delicacy that seemed to carry their sacred 
sentiment to the very heart; from these the performer burst 



MAKVELLOUS MUSIC. 387 

into one of the grandest performances of Mendelssohn's "Wed- 
ding March I ever listened to. There was the full band, 
with hautboy, flute, clarinet, and trumpet accompaniment, in- 
troducing perfect solo obligatos, and closing with the full, 
grand sweep of melody, in which, amid the blending of all in 
one grand harmonious whole, the strains of each were dis- 
tinguishable, perfect, pure, and faultless. The liquid ripple of 
the flute, the blare of the trumpet, and the mellow murmui 
of the clarinet, till the march arose in one grand A r olume 
of harmony that made the vaulted arches of the old cathedral 
ring again, and it seemed as if every nook and comer was 
filled with exultant melody. It was a glorious performance, 
and I felt like leaping to my feet, swinging my hat, and shout- 
ing, Bravo ! when it was finished. 

But, 'if this was glorious, the last piece, which represented 
a thunder storm amid the Alps, was little short of marvel- 
lous, and may be regarded as a masterpiece of organ-playing. 
It commenced with a beautiful pastoral introduction ; this 
was succeeded by the muttering of distant thunder, the fitful 
gusts of a gradually rising tempest, the sharp shirr of the 
wind, and the very rattling and trickling of the rain drops ; 
mountain streams could be heard, rushing, swollen into tor- 
rents ; the mutter of the tempest increased to a gradual and 
rising roar of wind ; a resistless rush of rain was heard, that 
made the spectator look anxiously towards church windows, 
and feel nervous that he had no umbrella. Finally the tre- 
mendous tempest of the Alps seemed to shake the great 
cathedral, the winds howled and shrieked, the rain beat, 
rushed, and came down in torrents ; the roar of the swollen 
mountain streams was heard between the terrific peals of 
thunder that reverberated among the mountains, awaking a 
hundred echoes, and one of those sharp, terrible rattles, that 
betokens the falling bolt, made more than one lady sit closer 
lo her protector, with an involuntary shudder. 

But anon the thunder peals grew less and less frequent, 
and rolled slowly and grandly off among the mountains, with 
heavy 1 3^ erberations, between which the rush of the mouu 



388 WONDERFUL ORGAN PLATING. 

tain streams and the rattle of the brooks were heard, till final- 
ly the peals of heaven's artillery died away entirely, the 
streams rushed less fiercely, and the brooks purled over the 
pebbles. Then, amid the subsiding of the tempest, the notes 
of a little organ, which had been heard only at intervals dur- 
ing the war of elements, became more clear and distinct: 
uow, as the thunder ceased and the rush of rain was over, 
3'ou heard it as in some distant convent or chapel among the 
mountains, and there arose a chant so sweet, so clear, so 
heavenly as to seem hardly of this earth — a chant of nuns 
before their altar; anon it increased in volume as tenor, alto, 
and even the full bass of monkish chant joined, and the whole 
choir burst into a glorious hymn of praise. 

The audience were breathless as they listened to the chant 
of this invisible choir, whose voices they could distinguish in 
sweet accord as they arose and blended into a great anthem, 
and then gradually faded in the distance, as though the meek 
sisterhood were gliding away amid their cloisters, and the 
voices of the procession of hooded monks ceased one after 
the other, as they sought the quiet of their cells. The chant 
droj)ped away, voice by voice, into silence ; all ceased but the 
little chapel organ accompaniment, which lingered and qua- 
vered, till, like a last trembling seraph breath, it faded away 
in the still twilight, and — the performance was over. 

There was full a moment's spell-bound hush among the 
listeners after its conclusion, and then followed one universal 
burst of admiration and applause in half a dozen different 
languages. Some of the ladies of our party, not dreaming of 
the wonders of the vox humana stop, desired to see the choir 
that sang so sweetly ; and to gratify them we ascended to 
the organ gallery, where, to their surprise, we met the sole 
performer on the wonderful instrument to which they had 
listened, in the person of an old Gei man, with scattered gray 
hairs peeping out beneath his velvet skull-cap, wearing black 
knee-bi-eeches and silk stockings, and shoes with broad buckles 
— a perfect old virtuoso in appearance, and a genuine musica. 
enthusiast, trembling with pleasure at our praise, and his eyes 
glistening with tears at our admiration of his marvellous skill 



A SAIL ON LAKE LUCEENE. 389 

The lion of Lucerne is, in fact, literally the lion ; that is, 
the celebrated lion sculptured out of the natural rock by the 
celebrated Danish sculptor Thorwaldsen, in memory of the 
Swiss guard that were massacred in defence of the Tuileries 
in 1792. The figure is in a beautiful grotto, a sheet of water, 
which is fed by springs that trickle out from the stone that 
it is carved from, separating it from the spectator. 

The reclining figure of this dying lion, so familiar to all 
from pictorial representations, is twenty-eight feet in length, 
and, as it lies transfixed with the broken lance, and in the 
agonies of death, sheltering the French shield and fleur de lis 
with its great paws, forms a most appropriate monument, and 
one not easily forgotten. 

Lake Lucerne, the Lake of the Four Cantons, is the most 
beautiful in Switzerland, and the grandeur and beauty of the 
scenery on every side are heightened by the historical associa- 
tions connected with the country bordering on its waters; 
for these cantons are the birthplace of Switzerland's freedom, 
and the scenes of the struggles of William Tell and his brave 
associates. It was a beautiful summer's morning when we 
embarked on board one of the little steamers that leave 
Lucerne four or five times a day, and steamed out from the 
pier, leaving the long string of hotels, the range of hills above 
them, with the curious walls and watch-towers, behind us, 
and grim old Mount Pilatus with his necklace of clouds stand- 
ing guard over the whole. 

We again pass the green slopes of the Righi, and in the 
distance the great Alpine peaks begin to appear, printed 
against the sky. Soon we come to Burgenstock, a great 
forest-clad hill that rises abruptly from the very lake to the 
height of over three thousand four hundred feet; we pass 
beautiful slopes rimmed with a background of lofty mountain 
peaks ; here is the picturesque little village of Waggis, from 
which many make the ascent of the Righi ; next we pass a 
beautiful little crescent-shaped village, and then come in sight 
two great barren, rocky-looking peaks named Mythen, nearly 
Bix thousand feet high ; and the boat rounds up to the pier of 



390 SCHILLER AND TELL. 

Brunmm, a lovely situation, where many tourists disembark 
and others come on board. Shortly after leaving here, we 
pass a perpendicular rock, nearly a hundred feet high, on 
which is inscribed, in huge gilt letters, an inscription signify- 
ing it is to " Frederick Schiller, the Bard of Tell." Just be- 
yond this a passenger directs our view to a green field, and a 
few scattered chalets. That is Rutli, what little we can see 
of it, and where the founders of Swiss liberty met, and bound 
themselves by oath to free the land from the invader. 

The steamer glides close to the shore, and gives us an op- 
portunity of seeing Tell's Chapel, situated upon a rock on the 
shore, and marking the place where Tell sprang out of Gess- 
ler's boat, as is told in the stories of the Swiss hero. Leav- 
ing this behind, we soon come in sight of Fluelen, our point 
of destination, situated in the midst of a surrounding of grand 
Alpine scenery. Between two great peaks, in full view, we 
can see a glacier, with its white snow and blue ice, and a great 
peak, with castle-shaped summit, looms up seventy-five hun- 
dred feet, while behind Fluelen rise two other peaks nearly 
ten thousand feet. We are circled by great Alps, with their 
snowy crowns and glaciers gleaming in the sunlight. 

Landing at Fluelen, we engaged for our party of five a pri- 
vate open carriage, for the journey through St. Gothard Pass,- 
instead of taking the great cumbrous ark of a diligence that 
was in waiting. By this means Ave secured a vehicle very 
much like an open baroitche, roomy, comfortable, and special- 
ly designed for the journey, with privilege, of course, of 
stopping when and where we liked, driving fast or slow ; in 
fact, travelling at our own convenience. This is by far the 
pleasantest way of travelling the mountain passes accessible 
to carriages, and where a party can be made up of four or 
five, the expense per head is but a small advance on that 
charged in the diligence, a dusty, dirty, crowded vehicle, with 
but few positions commanding the view, which is what the 
tourist comes to see. 

Crack, crack, crack went the driver's whip, like a succes- 
sion of pistol-shots, as we rattled out of Fluelen, and, after a 



8CE3TE OF TELL'S ARCHERY. 891 

pleasant ride of half an hour, rolled into the romantic little 
village of Altorf, embosomed in a lovely valley, with the 
huge mountains rising all about it. 

A ltorf ! William Tell ! "Men of Altorf ! " 

Yes ; this was the place embalmed in school-boy memories 
with all that was bold, heroic, brave, and romantic. Here 
was where William Tell defied Gessler, dashed down his car. 
from the pole, and appealed to the men of Altorf. 

Pleasant little Swiss town. We ride through a narrow 
street, which widens out into a sort of market-place, at one 
end of which stands a huge plaster statue of the Swiss libera- 
tor, which is said to occupy the very spot that he stood upon 
when he performed his wondrous feat of archery, and one 
hundred and fifty paces distant a fountain marks the spot 
where his son Albert stood awaiting the arrow from his fa- 
ther's bow, though some of the Swiss insist that Albert's 
position was thirty paces farther, where a tower now stands - , 
upon which some half-obliterated frescoes, representing scenes 
in Tell's life, are painted. 

We descended from our carriage, walked over the space of 
the arrow flight, and called to each other from the opposite 
points ; pictured to ourselves the crowd of villagers, the fierce 
soldiery that pressed them back, the anxiety of the father, the 
twang of the bow, distinctly heard in the awe struck hush of 
the assemblage as the arrow sped on its flight, and then the 
shout that went up as the apple was cleft, and the boy, un- 
hurt, ran to his father's arms. 

Away we sped from the town of Altorf, passed a little 
castle on a height, said to be that of Gessler, and soon 
emerged on the broad, hard, floor-like road of the St. Gothard 
Pass ; and what pen can describe the grandeur and beauty of 
this most magnificent of all Alpine passes ! One may read 
descriptions, see engravings, paintings, photographs, or pano- 
ramas, and yet get no idea of the grandeur of the spectacle. 

There were huge walls of splintered crags, so high that 
they seemed to be rocky curtains hung down out of the blue 
heavens. These were mountains, such as I imagined mo- in- 



392 "above me are the alps." 

tains were when a child. "We had to look straight up into 
the sky to see them. Great rocky walls rose almost from the 
road-side sheer up thousands and thousands of feet. A whole 
range of peaks is printed against the sky directly before us, 
half of them glittering with snow and ice. On wg rolled 
over the smooth road, and emerged into a vast oval amphi- 
theatre, as it were, the road passing through the centre, the 
green slopes the sides, and the huge peaks surrounding the 
outer barriers that enclosed it. We all stood up in our cai 
riage, with exclamations of admiration at the magnificent 
scene that suddenly burst upon us. 

Just below the broad road we were upon rushed the River 
Reuss, a foaming torrent. Beyond it, on the opposite side, 
all the rest of the distance, the whole beautiful valley, and 
along the green slope of the opposite mountain, for three or 
four miles, were Swiss chalets, flocks feeding, men and women 
at work, streams turning water-wheels, romantic waterfalls 
spattering down in large and small ravines. We could see 
them starting from their source miles away up among the blue 
glaciers, where, beneath the sun's beams, they fluttered like 
little threads of silver, and farther down came into view in 
great brooks of feathery foam, till they rushed into the river 
that owed its life to their contributions. 

The distance is so enormous, the scenery so grand, that it 
is beyond description. I was like Gulliver among the Brob- 
dingnagians, and feared I never should get my head down to a 
level with ordinary mortals again. I discovered, too, how de- 
ceptive the distance was among these huge peaks. In at- 
tempting to toss a pebble into the stream that flowed appar- 
ently thirty or forty feet below the road, and, as I thought, 
about twenty feet from it, it fell far short. Another and an- 
other effort failed to reach it; for it rolled over three hundred 
feet below, and more than two hundred and fifty from us. 

Every variety of mountain peak rose before us against the 
dark-blue afternoon sky. There were peaks that ran away up 
into heaven, glittering with snow ; old gray crags, splintered, 
as it were, with thunder-bolts ; huge square, thorne-like walls, 



THE ST. GOTHARD PASS. 393 

the very throne of Jupiter; mountains that were like great 
brown castles ■ and peaks that the blue atmosphere of (lis 
tance painted with a hundred softened and varied hues. 

The reader may fancy himself vie wing this scene, if possible, 
which we saw as we. rode over this smooth, well-kept road — 
at our right a ridge of mountain wall, at our left the great 
ravine, with the white-foamed torrent rushing over its rocky 
bed, eT ery mile or so spanned by arched stone bridges. On 
the othbr side of the stream were the pretty rural picture of 
farms, chalets, gardens, herds, and flocks. Every inch of 
ground that was available was cultivated, and the cultivation 
runs up the mountain side as far as vegetation can exist. All 
around the air was filled with the rattle of running water. 
Rushing torrents leaped from great ravines, little ribbons 
tumbled down in silver sheets, brooks clattered and flashed 
as they wound in and out of view on their way to the valley, 
cascades vaulted over sharp crags, and the sides of this vast 
amphitheatre were glistening with silvery veins. I counted 
over twenty waterfalls within one sweep of the eye. 

We were surprised into admiration at the state of the road. 
It is a magnificent specimen of engineering, and, although it 
is a steady ascent, it is rendered easy and comparatively im- 
perceptible by numerous curves. There are forty-six great 
curves, or zigzags, in the ascent. The road itself is nearly 
twenty feet wide, kept in admirable order, free as a floor from 
the least obstruction, and protected on the side towards the 
precipice by strong stone posts planted at regular intervals. 
There are many streets in Boston more difficult of ascent and 
more dangerous of descent than the road of the St. Gothard 
Pass. 

The magnificent roads in the mountain passes, the fine 
hotels, the regulations respecting guides, and the care and at- 
tention bestowed upon travellers in Switzerland, are all for a 
purpose ; for the Swiss, as I have remarked, live on the travel 
of foreign ers, and are wise enough to know that the more easy 
and pleasant they make travelling to tourists, the more of 
them will come, and the more money will be spent The 



394 AN AWFUL PASS. 

roads are almost as great a wonder as the scenery. Some- 
times, when a spur of the mountain juts out, a tunnel, or gal- 
lery, is cut right through it ; and really there is comparatively 
but very little danger in traversing the Swiss passes, except to 
those venturesome spirits who persist in attemptiug to scale 
almost inaccessible peaks, or ascending Mont Blanc, Mont 
Rosa, or the dangerous Matterhorn. 

As we rode on and on, and up and up, we came to a wild 
scene that seemed a very chaos — the commencement of crea- 
tion. We found ourselves in the midst of great black and 
iron-rust colored crags, five or six thousand feet high, jagged, 
splintered, and shattered into every variety of shape. The 
torrent fairly roared hundreds of feet below. I had left the 
carnage, and was walking some hundreds of yards in advance 
alone as I entered this tremendous pass. The road hugged 
the great black rocky wall of the mountain that rose so high 
as almost to shut out the light. On the opposite side were 
mountains of solid black rock, not a spear of grass, not a 
speck of verdure, from base to summit. The great rushing 
mountain torrent tore, rushed, and leaped madly over the huge 
boulders that had rolled into its jagged bed, and its fall was 
all that broke the awful stillness and the gloomy grandeur of 
the place ; for the whole scene, which the eye took in for 
miles, was lofty masses of everlasting granite, hurled together 
and cleft asunder as by supernatural means. I could think 
of nothing like it but Gustave Dore's pictures in Dante's In- 
ferno ; and this terrific pass was a good representation of the 
approach to hell itself. It is astonishing to notice how the 
scene hushes the visitor into an awe-struck silence ; for it 
seems as if in these wild and awful heights, as on mid-ocean, 
man stands more immediately in the presence of the Al- 
mighty. 

The scene culminates at the bridge itself, — appropriately 
named the Devil's Bridge, — where is a tremendously rapid 
waterfall pouring down, and where the eye takes in the whole 
of the black ravine, with the road like a white snake clinging 
to the precipitous mountain wall. Thirty or forty feet below 



the devil's bridge. S9& 

also spanning the torrent, are the remains of the old bridge 
upon which the battle was fought between the French and 
Austrians — a terrible place, indeed, for a death struggle. 
The new bridge, over "which we crossed, is a splendid struc 
ture of granite, and has a single arch of twenty-five feet. 
Through the mighty ravines we wound upward and onward, 
on through a great tunnel, fifteen feet high and sixteen feet 
wide, cut thi'ough the solid rock a distance of over two hun- 
dred feet, soon after emerging from which we came to a ver- 
dant, broad, level pasture, here np among the mountains, a 
valley surrounded by lofty snow-clads. This is the valley of 
Uri, and its pleasant verdure, watered by the river which 
flows through it, is an agreeable contrast to the savage and 
gloomy grandeur of the scenery we had left behind ns. 
There are only about four months of summer here, and the 
inhabitants subsist by their herds, and by conveying trav- 
ellers' baggage and merchandise over to St. Gothard Pass. 

We next came to the little village of Andermatt, and just 
beyond it, at nightfall, reached Hospenthal, fatigued and 
glad to reach the Meyerhof Hotel, just outside the village. 
The house, which had accommodations for seventy or eighty 
guests, was crowded with tourists, among whom was a lib- 
eral representation of Americans and Englishmen. In the 
morning, after discussing a hearty breakfast, we started on 
our return, having a fine view of the glacier of St. Anna, 
rising high above the mountain ridges, and glittering in the 
morning sunshine. We drove back through the same pass, 
and halted on the Devil's Bridge to watch the waterfall of 
the Reuss, that leaps and foams down its descent here of a 
hundred feet, as it passes beneath the bridge, and, looking 
up, saw the spray of the descending torrent made into beauti- 
ful rainbows by the morning sunbeams. There were the 
terrible masses of rock, the huge, splintered peaks, and tre- 
mendous ravines ; but the grand effect of ascending in the 
twilight of afternoon, which is the time chosen, if possible, 
by tourists, i3 lost, to a great extent, in the early part of 
the day. 



S96 THE BRUNIG PASS. 

Once more, adieu to Lucerne; and this time we start 
from the door of the Schweizerhof in private conveyance for 
Interlaken, via the Brunig Pass. We rode along for nines 
over a smooth, level road, on the very banks of the Lake of 
the Four Cantons, the scenery being a succession of charm- 
ing pictures of lake and mountain. Our road led us through 
several Swiss villages, generally closely built, with narrow 
and irregular streets, and very dirty. The Swiss peasants 
that we meet are browned and bent with hard toil. Men 
and women toil alike, in the fields and by the roadside. AH 
are trained to burden-bearing, which is by means of a long 
basket made to fit the back and shoulders, the top higher 
than the head. The women over thirty years of age are 
coarse and masculine, their faces and hands browned, seamed, 
and wrinkled with toil. They clamber about in the mountain 
passes, and gather grass for their herds, carrying the burdens 
in their baskets, or the manure which may be found on the 
road during the travelling season, or break stones for mend- 
ing the roads. 

The Brunig road was another one of those wonderful 
specimens of engineering, with not a loose pebble upon its 
floor-like surface, the scenery romantic and beautiful, but not 
of so grand a description as the St. Gothard. We wind 
through the woods, have occasional glimpses of the valley 
below, until finally, at the summit of the pass, the magnifi- 
cent scenery of the Meiringen valley bursts upon the view. 
This is, as it were, a level, beautiful country, deep between 
two great ranges of mountains, and you stand upon one and 
look clown upon it, and across to the other. 

This smiling valley was like a framed picture in the sun- 
shine ; the silver River Aare wound through it, white villages 
were nestled here and there, orchards bloomed, and fields 
were verdant, sheltered by the high crags from the north 
wind, and brown roads wound in and out among finely culti 
vated famis. Directly opposite us, away over the other side 
of the valley, rose up the sheer, rocky sides of the mountain 
wall, out of which waterfalls were spirting and cascades 



A VALLEY OF BEAUTY. 307 

clashing in every direction, to feed the stream below. 
There were vhe beautiful falls of the Reichenbach, rushing 
over the cliff, an I dropping hundreds and hundreds of feet 
down to the valley. The different waterfalls that we could 
see at the opposite side of the valley seemed like white, wav 
ing wreaths hung upon the mountain-sides. To the rear of 
these, overtopping all at intervals, lofty snow-clads lifted 
their white crowns into the sunshine. The view of this 
lovely valley, with its green pastures, meandering rivers, and 
picturesque waterfalls; its verdant carpet, dotted with vil- 
lages, and the whole fringed with a belt of firs and dark 
green foliage, as w r e looked down into it from our lofty plat- 
form, reminded me of the story of the genius who stamped 
his foot on the mountain, which was cleft open, and showed 
in its depths to an astonished peasant the lovely country of 
the elves and fairies, in contrast with the desolation of the 
rocky crags and mountains that rose about him. 

Down we ride, amid beautiful mountain scenery on every 
side, and finally through the town of Brienz, where the 
beautiful wood carving is wrought. We have a good view 
of the Faulhorn in the distance, pass through two or three 
little Swiss villages, and finally drive into a beautiful green 
valley, with quite a New England appearance to the pensions. 
or boarding-houses, which passed, we come to a string of 
splendid hotels upon one side of the broad road, the other 
side being open, and affording an unobstructed view of the 
Jungfrau and its snowy crown. Fatigued with a ten-hours' 
ride, and sight-seeing, we drive up to the door of the mag- 
nificent Hotel Victoria. Price of the carriage hire, extra 
horses, driver's fee, horse baiting, and all, for the whole day's 
journey, fifty francs, — ten dollars, or two dollars apiece, — 
and a very reasonable price it was considered for private 
conveyance, premiere classe, at the height of the travelling 
season. 

The hotels at Interlaken are fine establishments, and well 
kept. The Victoria, where we were domiciled, has fine 
grounds in front, and commands a view of the Jungfrau gla- 



398 INTEKLAKEN. 

cier. It contains two hundred and forty rooms, and has 
reading-rooms, parlors, and music-rooms equal to the hotels 
at our fashionable watering-places. Prices high — about two 
dollars per day, each person. There are numerous other 
smaller hotels, where the living is equally good, and the 
prices are less ; and still others, known as pensions, where 
visitors stay for a few weeks or the season, which are very 
comfortable, and at which prices are half the rate above 
mentioned. 

Interlaken is beautifully and romantically situated, and is 
a popular resort for tourists in Switzerland, as a place from 
which many .interesting excursions may be made. We chose 
ours to be up over the Wengernalp to Grindelwald, sending 
our carriage around from Lauterbrunnen to Grindelwald, to 
meet us as we came down by the bridle-path to that place. 
The ride to Lauterbrunnen was the same succession of 
beautiful Alpine scenery that I have so often described — 
lofty mountains, cascades, waterfalls, green slopes, distant 
snow-clads, dark pines, blue distance, Swiss chalets, and pic- 
turesque landscape. 

Beggars now begin to be a serious nuisance, especiall)* 
when your carriage stops at different points for you to enjo\ 
the view. Then boys and girls come with milk, plums, apri- 
cots, cheap wood carvings, and curious pebbles, to sell, till one 
gets perfectly nervous at their approach, especially after the 
halt, the lame, and the blind have besought you; and one 
fellow capped the climax, as we were enjoying a beautiful 
view, by gracefully swaying a toy flexible snake into our car- 
riage, to our most intense disgust and indignation. As you 
progress, women waylay the carriage at the top of a sraal' 
ascent, which it must approach slowly, and bawl Swiss songs, 
ending with an outstretched j>alm, as you reach them. Roys 
and men, at certain points in the passes, sound Alpine horns, 
— a wide-mouthed instrument of wood, six feet in length, — 
which gives out a sonorous but mellow sound, peculiarly 
musical in the Alpine echoes. The blowers expect that a 
few sous will be tossed to them, and children chase you with 
bunches of mountain flowers to sell. 



THE STAUBBACH WATERFALL. 899 

How peoplt manage to exist far up in some of these wild 
mountain denies is a wonder ; and it seems as though it must 
be a struggle for some of them to keep soul and body togeth- 
er, they save every bit of herbage, scrape up manure from 
the roads, cultivate all they can in the short summers, keep 
goats and cows, and live on travellers. 

The Catholic priests have penetrated every pass and defile 
in the country, and at their little chapels in the Alps and by 
the roadsides are rude and fearfully rough-looking representa- 
tions of our Saviour on the cross, and of various saints under- 
going all sorts of tortures. Now and then we meet a party 
of j>easants on foot, men and women travelling over the 
mountain pass from one canton to another, the leader holding 
a rosary, and all repeating a prayer together, invoking pro- 
tection from dangers on the road. The priests, with their 
long black robes and huge hats, you meet all over Europe. 
We had one — a jolly fellow he was, too — in the same compart- 
ment of a railway carriage on one of the Swiss roads, who 
laughed, joked, had a pleasant chat with the ladies, asking all 
sorts of questions about America, and at parting, bade us 
adieu with an air. 

As we approached Lauterbrunnen, we rode through the 
romantic valley of the River Lutschine, Which rushes and 
boils over the rocks at such a rate that the cloudy glaciei 
water has exactly the appearance of soap-suds. Here, on this 
river's banks, rests the picturesque little village of Lauter- 
brunnen, which name, we were told, signified springs. The 
little waterfalls and cascades can be seen flashing out in every 
direction from the lofty mountains that surround it; but 
chief among them is the superb and graceful Staubbach, that 
tumbles down from a lofty cliff nine hundred and twenty-five 
feet in height. The best view of this beautiful fall is at a 
point nearly half a mile distant, as the water, which is not of 
great volume, becomes converted into a shower of mist before' 
reaching the ground, after its lofty leap ; but at this point, 
where we had the best view of it, it was like a wreath of 
snowy fo im, broadening at the base into a million of beauti 



400 GREAT GLACIERS. 

ful scintillations in the sunlight, and the effect of the wind 
wais to sway it hither and thither like a huge strip of snowy 
lace that had been hung down over the green side of the 
mountain. 

Now we take horses, after leaving the road that runs 
through Lauterbrunnen. Every half hour reveals to us new 
wonders of Alpine scenery and beauty ; we reach the little 
village of Wengen, and see great peaks rising all around us ; 
upward and onward, and from our mountain path we can look 
back and down in the valley of Lauterbrunnen, that we have 
left far, far below ; we see the Staubbach fall dwarfed to a 
little glittering line, and, above it its other waterfall, of several 
hundred feet, which was not visible from the valley. But still 
upward and onward we go, and now come to a long ridge, 
upon which the bridle-path runs, as it were on the back-bone 
of the mountain. Here we have a view as grand, as Alpine, 
as Swiss, as one has ever read about or imagined. 

Right across the ravine, which appeared like a deep 
crevasse, scarcely half a mile wide, Avas a huge blue wall of 
ice, seamed with great chasms, rent into great fissures, cold, 
still, awful, and terrible, with its background of lofty moun- 
tains covered with eternal snow. Now we had a view of the 
Jungfrau in all its majesty, as its snow crest sparkled in the 
sunshine, twelve thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven 
feet in height. There were the Silverhorn and the Sclmee- 
horn, springing their lofty peaks out of a vast expanse of snow 
and ice ; a whole chain of gigantic cliffs, so lofty in height that 
you seem to look up into the very heavens at their peaks of 
dazzling whiteness ; the Shreckhorn, twelve thousand two 
hundred feet high ; the Black Monk, a dark mass of rocks, 
twelve thousand feet, in striking contrast with the snowy 
mantles that clothe the other mountains. 

Great glaciers, miles in extent, put a chill into the air that 
makes you shudder. The gap that I thought half a mile wide 
is a space nearly six times that distance across ; we feel 
dwarfed amid the immensity and stupendous grandeur of the 
scene, and, as we unconsciously become silent, are struck with 
the unbroken, awful stillness of the Alps. 



A MOUNTAINEERS' FESTIVAL. 401 

We are above the murmur of brooks and the rush of water 
falls ; no bird or insect chirrups here ; there is not even i 
bush for the wind to sigh through. Now and then a deep, 
sonorous murmur, as of the sigh of some laboring gnome in 
the mountain, or the twang of a gigantic harp-string, breaks 
the silence for a moment, and then dies away. It is a distant 
avalanche. We listen. It is gone! and all is still, awful, 
sublime. 

We rode on ; the view took in a whole chain of lofty moun- 
tains : now we pass great walls of crag, three or four thousand 
feet high, now looked across the ravine at the great glaciers, 
commencing with layers of snow and ice, and running out 
till they became a huge sheet of blue ice, the color deepening 
till it was blue as vitriol ; but we were doomed to pay one of 
the penalties of sight-seeing in the Alps, for swiftly came a 
thick cloud, shutting out the whole view, and out of it came 
a heavy shower, drenching all thoroughly. A quarter of an 
hour of this, and the cloud had passed on, and we had nearly 
reached the little Hotel Bellevue, our point of destination, 
and come in sight of a verdant hill-side, a vast green, sheltered 
slope, in striking contrast to the ice and snow of the other 
part of the pass. 

Our guides made us first halt, and look at the herd of 
cattle that were feeding upon it, and then pause, and listen to 
the tinkle of their bells, — more than three hundred in num- 
ber, — that sounded like a vast music-box in the Alpine still- 
ness. Then we looked away across the valley, and saw the 
little village of Miirren, the highest village in Switzerland, 
five thousand and eighteen feet, on a mountain-side ; and 
finally we reached the hotel on the highest point of the little 
Scheideck, six thousand two hundred and eighty-four feet 
(Righi is five thousand five hundred and forty-one feet), and 
as we approached across the little plat of level ground in 
front of it, found we had arrived at a " reapers' festival ; " and 
there was quite a gathering of peasants, who assemble here 
on the first Sunday in August, dressed in the Grindelwalcl 
costume, for dancing, wrestling, and other festivities. They 
26 



402 GLACIERS AND AVALANCHES. 

had 1 >een driven in-doors by the rain ; the entry of tht3 little 
hotel was crowded; and however romantic and picturesque 
the Swiss mountaineer may look in his national costume in 
the picture-books, or poetical he and the Swiss maiden may 
be in songs and ballads, there is an odor of garlic and to 
bacco about them at close quarters that seriously affects 
poetic sentimentality. 

As the rain had ceased, the peasants once more betook 
themselves to dancing to the music of a cracked clarinet and 
a melodeon; and another group got up an extemporaneous 
fight, two of them tumbling down a dozen or fifteen feet into 
a gully without injury, while we put the house under contribu- 
tion for wood for a fire in the best room, and were soon drying 
our clothes by a blaze of claret-wine boxes. A capital moun- 
tain dinner, in which tea, honey, sweet bread, butter, and 
chamois chops figured, was so much better and cheaper than 
the soggy doughnuts, indigestible pie, sour bread, and cold 
beans that used to be set before the traveller at the Tip Top 
House, Mount Washington, New Hampshire, for the tip top 
price of one dollar a head, that we could not help drawing 
the comparison. 

A rest and an enjoyment of the grand view of mountain 
chain, snowy peaks, and vast glaciers that surround us, and 
we start for the descent to Grindelwald. Grand views we 
had of the Wetterhorn, the Faulhorn, and the upper and 
lower glaciers of Grindelwald. We pass where avalanches 
have torn down the mountain-side, and thrown huge boulders 
about like pebbles, then over patches of open field, where 
stunted herbage grows, and Alpine roses redden the ground 
with their blossoms ; then we come to woods, pastures, and 
peasants, and reach Grindelwald just before nightfall, to find 
our carriage waiting to take us back to Interlaken, which we 
reached after an absence of about eleven hours. 

Interlaken is a grand depository and mart of the Swiss 
carved wood work, Alpine crystals, &c. ; and grand stores of 
this merchandise, after the fashion of the " Indian stores " at 
.Niagara Falls, attract the tourist. Some of this carving is 



GETTING JEWED. 403 

\ 



sery beautifully and artistically clone, and some of it is cheap 
and not worth the trouble of taking away ; but it is posi- 
tively amusing to see how some American travellers will load 
themselves down with this trash because it is cheap. Some 
of the smoke crystals and rock crystals, fashioned into sleeve- 
buttons and watch-seals, were both handsome and low priced. 

I strolled into the little shop of an honest old Hebrew from 
Prague, who had a cheaply-painted little sign, in English, 
that he sold " Garnets, real Stones," and found that he did 
not, or had not learned to charge extravagant prices; he 
spoke English, and was teaching it to his little daughter, from 
a primer, when we entered, for " English and Americans buy 
garnet, and must be talk wis." The old fellow's garnets 
were excellent and cheap, and I soon had sleeve-buttons, and 
scarf-pin, large pin, and small pin, studs, and the garnet in 
forms enough to render me ruddy for the next ten years, and 
was preparing to take my departure, when, leaning too heavily 
upon the little show-case, my elbow went through it with a 
crash. Here was a chance for damage ! To be sure the 
pane of glass was little larger than a sheet of foolscap ; but 
we must pay what the proprietor charged ; and was he 
not a Jew? Well, this Jew thought two francs would amply 
reimburse him ; but monsieur had been so kind, he could only 
charge him one. 

After being deceived in the Rue de la Paix, cheated on the 
Boulevards, swindled barefacedly in the Grand Hotel, and 
humbugged outrageously in the Palais Royal, I rather rel- 
ished being " Jewed " in this manner ; none the less agreeable 
and satisfactory from its being so un-Christian-like a trans- 
action. Accordingly I hailed two other Americans from the 
street, men who "bought everything everywhere," one of 
whom -had got one of his trunks so mixed up. and tightly 
packed with shirts, curiosities, gloves, carved wood-work, 
stockings, photographs, crystals, boots, guide-books, under 
clothing, fans, and stereoscopic views, that he denominated it 
the Chinese puzzle, gave up trying to find his articles of wear- 
ing apparel in it, and sent it back to Paris. I hailed these 



404 GIESSBACH. 

two as they were passing, commended the merchandise ind 
"much kindness in the Jew," and the old fellow, in less than 
half an hour, felt that he had brought his glittering gems 
from Prague to some purpose, as many of his hest jewels 
changed places with the gold Napoleons of the Americans. 

The little hotel at Giessbach was full when we arrived, 
all hough we had telegraphed a day in advance for rooms ; 
and a polite porter met us at the pier, as the boat drew up, 
wil 1j regrets, and commended the " Bear," which was situated 
in the village of Brienz, opposite, where we could sup, lodge, 
and breakfast, and row over to see the Giessbach Falls. There 
was no resource but to go to the Bear, and we went ; and 
after a bad supper, a boat's crew of two men and a woman 
rowed us back across the lake to Giessbach to see the lime 
light illumination of the falls. From the landing to the ter- 
race commanding the falls is a good twenty minutes' climb ; 
but in the darkness, preceded by a coujole of guides bearing 
lanterns, there is not much opportunity for a critical examina- 
tion of the surrounding scenery : however, we determined to 
revisit it by daylight, and all agreed that the idea of exhibit- 
ing a waterfall on a dark night, by means of an illumination, 
at a franc a head, was an idea worthy a Barnum, or at least 
the inventive qualities of an American. 

We reached the terrace, and there waited in the blackness 
of night with an expectant group. We could hear the torrent 
dashing and. tumbling down opposite to where we stood, and 
high above among the cliffs, but our vision failed to penetrate 
half a dozen yards into the Cimmerian gloom. 

Suddenly a little rocket shot out from below us ; another, 
above, with momentary flash revealed a tumbling cascade 
and the dark green foliage, and then all again was blackness. 
In a moment or two, however, a bright glare shot out from 
below, another above it, another and another flashed up, and 
then from out the blackness, like an illuminated picture, we 
saw the beautiful fall, a series of seven cascades, leaping and 
tumbling down amid the verdant foliage, every twig of which 
stood out in the powerful light, while through the romantic 



AN ILLUMINATED WATERFALL. 405 

and picturesque, ravine poured a mass of foam of molten 
silver, beneath the colored light, rich, gleaming and dazzling. 
But while we gazed, the hue changed, and purple equal to 
Tyrian dye for robe of Roman emperor tumbled over purple 
rocks, and clashed up violet spray into the air. Once more, 
and the rocks were ingots, the stream was Pactolus itself, the 
bark on trees at the brink were as if Midas himself had smote 
them, and the branches bore gold leaf above the yellow cur- 
rent. But it changed again, and a torrent red as ruby gushed 
over the rocks, the ravine was lighted with a red glare as of 
a conflagration, and as we gazed on those spurting, tumbling 
crimson torrents there was something horribly suggestive in 
the sight. 

" Blood, blood ! Iago." 

But we did not see it long in that light, for the herbage, 
trees, and foliage were next clothed in an emerald hue, till 
the ravine looked like a peep into Aladdin's cavern, and the 
torrent Avas of that deep green tinge which, marks that great 
bend of the falling water when it pours with such, majestic 
sweep over the crag near Table Rock, at Niagara. 

The green faded gradually, the torrent leaped a few mo- 
ments in paler light, cascade after cascade disappeared ; we 
were again in darkness, and the exhibition was over. Pre- 
ceded by our lantern-bearers, we gained the boat, and oui 
crew started out into the blackness of the lake for the oppo- 
site shore, and for one of the dozen groups of lights that 
marked the landings. 

We were compelled to bear with the "Bear" for one night, 
but cannot commend it as the " Great Bear " or a planet of 
much brilliancy ; so we bore away from it early in the morn- 
ing for the opposite shores, again to see the falls by daylight, 
ere the steamer started on the return trip to Interlaken. The 
ascent is a series of curves up a delightful, romantic pathway, 
and when part way up crosses a bridge commanding a view 
of a portion of the falls ; but from the charming terrace near 
the hotel, the sight of the series of six or «even successive 
leaps or continuous cascades of the water as it rushes down 



406 BERNE. 

an impetuous foaming torrent from a height of three to four 
hundred feet in the mountain wall is magnificent. We sat 
beneath the trees and enjoyed the sight till the last moment, 
and saw, by turning towards the lake, that the steamer had 
left the opposite shore, then reluctantly tore ourselves away 
from the charming scene, and descended to the pier. 

A pleasant sail back to Interlaken, an omnibus ride over 
to a steamboat landing, and we were once more embarked on 
another Swiss lake, — Lake Thun, — a beautiful sheet of water 
ten miles long, a portion of its banks covered with vineyards, 
and the view of Alps on Alps, in every direction in the dis- 
tance, most magnificent; there were our old acquaintances, 
the Jungfrau, Monk, Eiger, and Wetterhorn, also the Faul- 
horn, and dozens of others, with their pure frosted summits 
and blue glaciers all around us as we paddled over the little 
blue lake, till reaching the town of Thun, we stepped into 
the railway carriage of the Central Swiss Railway, and in an 
hour were at Berne, at the fine hotel known as the Berner- 
hoff, which commands a view of the whole line of snow-clad 
Bernese Alps in one continuous chain in the distance, looking 
like gigantic ramparts thrown up by Titans. This city is on 
the River Aare, or, rather, on the high bank above it ; for the 
river is more than a hundred feet below, and that portion of 
the city towards its bank seems placed, as it were, on a grand 
terrace for a lookout to the distant mountains. 

If the tourist has not previously learned that the Bear is 
the heraldic emblem of Berne, he will learn that fact before 
he has been in the city a quarter of an hour. Two granite 
bears guard the city gates ; a shield in the Corn Exchange is 
upheld by a pair of them, in wood ; fountains have their effigy 
carved upon the top ; and in the cathedral square, keeping 
guard of a large bronze statue of a mounted knight in full 
armor, Rudolf von Erlach, are four huge fellows, the size of life, 
in bronze, at the four coiners of the pedestal. Then the city 
government keep a bears' den at the public exj)ense — a huge 
circular pit, in which three or four living specimens of their 
tutelar deity solemnly promenade or climb a pole for buns 
and biscuits from visitors. 



BEARS, 407 

Wood-carving can be bought at Berne of very pretty and 
artistic execution, and the wood-carvers have exhausted their 
ingenuity in producing groups of bears, engaged in all sorts 
of occupations. I had no idea what a comical figure this 
clumsy beast makes when put in such positions. We have 
stopped at many a shop window and laughed heartily at the 
comical groups. Here were a party of bears playing at ten- 
pins : a solemn old Bruin is adding up the score ; another, 
with one foot advanced and the ball poised, is about to make 
a ten strike, and a bear with body half bent forward watches 
the effect of the roll. Another group represented a couple at 
the billiard table, with one, a rakish-looking cub, making a 
scientific stroke, and his companion, another young " buster," 
with arm akimbo and cigar in mouth, watching them. There 
was a group of bear students, all drunk, arm in arm ; two old 
bears meeting and shaking hands on 'Change ; whole schools 
studying, with a master putting the rod upon a refractory 
bear ; and a full orchestra of bears playing on every variety 
of musical instrument ; in fact, bears doing almost everything 
one had seen men do, and presenting a most irresistibly 
comic appearance. These figures were all carved from wood, 
and were from a couple of inches to six inches in height. 
Scarce any tourist leaves without a bear memento. 

The great music-box and carved wood-work stores here are 
museums in their way. Of course the more elaborate and best 
wrought specimens of wood-carving command high prices, 
but nothing like the extortions of the fancy goods stores in 
America. Berne is a grand place to buy music-boxes in 
carvQd wood-work, and cuckoo clocks ; some of these con- 
trivances are very ingenious. We visited one great " maga- 
sin" near the hotel, where they had photograph albums, with 
carved wood covers, that played three tunes when you opened 
tfiem ; cigar buffets that performed a polka when you turned 
out the weed to your guests ; work-boxer that went off into 
quadrilles when you lifted the lid, and tables that performed 
grand m-j relies when you twisted their drawei -knobs. Every 
once in a Avhile the cuckoos darted out of one or two of the 



408 MUSIC-BOXES AND AUTOMATONS. 

threescore clocks, of which no two were set alike, bobbed 
their heads, cuckooed, and went back again with a snap ; and 
there was one clock fashioned like a Swiss chalet, from the 
door of which at the hour a figure of a little fellow, six inches 
in height, emerged, and, raising a horn to his mouth, played 
an air of a minute's duration, and retired. Fatigued, I sank 
into a chair whose arms were spread invitingly, when I was 
startled by that well-known air, the Sailor's Hornpipe, going 
off as if somebody had put a band of music into my coat-tail 
pocket. Springing to my feet, the music stopjDed ; but as I 
eat down, away it went again right underneath me. It was a 
musical chair, and I sat it playing. 

We strolled through the curious old streets with the side- 
walks under the arcades of the buildings, saw the curious old 
clock-tower, where, a few minutes before the hour, an autom- 
aton cock crows, and then it is struck by a comical figure 
with a bell and a hammer, while a troop of automaton bears 
appear, and march around on a wooden platform. An old 
fellow with an hour-glass turns it over, and the cock con- 
cludes the performance by again flapping his wings and 
crowing. 

One of the most delightful places of promenade in the city 
is the cathedral terrace, a broad, shady walk, three or four 
hundred feet long and two hundred or more wide. It is one 
hundred feet above the river, and about ninety above the city 
street at the base. This terrace commands a fine view of the 
whole range of distant mountains, and is a favorite resort on 
summer evenings, where one may enjoy an ice-cream, cigar. 
cup of coffee, or light wine, and long after the twilight has 
deepened in the valley, watch the rosy hue that varies its tints 
upon the shining mountain peaks in the distance. 

At the old cathedral we heard a finer and larger organ than 
that at Lucerne, but an inferior performer, which made eveD 
the beautiful harmony that j)ealed beneath the Gothic arches 
seem tame in comparison. From Berne by rail, a ride of an 
hour and a half brought us to Freiburg, where we tarried a 
tew hours to see its great suspension bridges, and hear its 



THE FREIBURG ORGAN". 409 

great organ. The hotel at which we stopped commanded a 
fine view of both the bridges, black threads spanning a deep 
ravine. Freiburg is upon a steep rocky hill-side, at the base 
of which winds the river, and extending over the chasm, to 
the opposite bank, are the graceful and Avondrous bridges. 
The first we crossed was nine hundred and eighty-five feet 
long, and one hundred and seventy-five feet above the vivex 
beneath, and is suspended by four chains of about twelve 
hundred feet in length. The ends of this great bridge are 
eecured by one hundred and twenty huge anchors, fastened to 
granite blocks sunk deep into the earth. After crossing, we 
took a pleasant walk upon the lofty bank opposite, from which 
we had a good view of the town, with the River Sarine wind 
ing close about it. We passed on to some distance above, 
where the other bridge, known as the Bridge of Gotteron, 
spanned a romantic rocky ravine ; and from the centre of this 
btructure we looked down two hundred and eighty-five feet, 
into the very streets of a little village directly under us, 
jammed in between the cliffs. This bridge is seven hundred 
feet long. 

The great organ in Freiburg is said to be one of the finest 
in Europe, and a little guide-book says it has sixty-seven stops 
and seven thousand eight hundred pipes, some of them thirty- 
two feet in length. We heard almost the same programme 
performed as at Lucerne, and had, therefore, opportunity of 
comparison. The instrument was not managed with the con- 
summate skill of that at Lucerne, and the vox humana stop 
was vastly inferior ; but in the Storm piece the performer, in 
addition to the music of the convent organ, faintly heard amid 
the war of elements, also introduced the pealing of the con- 
vent bell, a wonderfully correct imitation ; and in the Wed- 
ding March the blast of the trumpet was blown with a vigor 
and naturalness not exceeded even by human lips. 

From Freiburg we sped on to Lausanne, and, without stop 
ping in the town, rode down to the little port of the jrface, 
Ouchy, on the very bank of the very blue and beautiful Lake 
Leman, and stopped at the Hotel Beau Rivage. This hotel if 



410 LAKE LEMAN. 

another one of those handsome and well-kept hotels, wliich, 
from their comfort, elegant surroundings, and many con- 
veniences, add so much to the tourist's enjoyment. This 
house is three hundred feet long and five stories high, fronts 
upon the lake, and has a beautifully laid out garden and park 
of nearly two acres in front and about it. My fine double 
room looks out upon the blue lake, with its plying steamboats 
and its superb background of distant mountains. At the 
little piers in front of the hotel grounds are row and sail boats 
for the use of visitors ; and some of the former are plying 
hither and thither, with merry parties of ladies and gentlemen 
beneath their gay striped awnings. Flowers of every hue 
bloom in the gardens. A band of eight or ten pieces performs 
on the promenade balcony in front of the house every even- 
ing from six to ten o'clock. There are reading-rooms, parlors, 
and saloons. The table is excellent, and attention perfect. 
Prices — for one of the best rooms looking out on the lake, 
for two persons, eight francs ; breakfast, three francs each ; 
dinner, four francs each ; service, one franc each ; total, for 
two persons, twenty-one francs, or four dollars and twenty-five 
cents, gold, per day ; and these are the high prices at the 
height of the season for the best rooms. Reasonable enough 
here, but which they are fast learning to charge at inferior 
inns, in other parts of the country, on account of the prodi- 
gality of " shoddy " Americans. 

The view of Lake Geneva, or Lake Leman, as it is called, 
is beautiful from Ouchy. The panorama of mountains upon 
the opposite shore extends as far as the eye can reach, and in 
the sunset they assume a variety of beautiful hues — red, blue, 
violet, and rose-color. We have been particularly fortunate 
in arriving here while the moon is near its full ; and the effect 
of the silver rays on the lake, mountains, and surrounding 
s ^enery is beautiful beyond description. 

Up in Lausanne we have visited the old cathedral, which is 
built upon a high terrace, and reached by a dirty, irregulai 
flight of plank steps, about one hundred and seventy-five in 
•Dumber; at any rate, enough to render the climber glad to 



SCENES FROM BYEON. 411 

reach the top of.thein. From the cathedral terrace we have 
a view of the tortuous streets of the town, with its pic- 
turesque, irregular piles of buildings, a beautiful view of the 
blue lake, and the battlements of , the distant peaks of Savoy. 
The cathedral, which is now a Protestant church, is very fine, 
with its clustei columns supporting the graceful vaulted roof 
over sixty feet above. It is three hundred and thirty-three 
feet long and one hundred and forty-three feet in width; and 
at one end, near where the high altar once stood, we were 
shown deep marks worn into the stone floor, which the guide 
averred were worn by the mailed knees of thousands of cru- 
saders, who knelt there, one after the other, as they received 
the priestly blessing as their army passed through here on its 
way to do battle with the Saracen, and recover the Holy 
Sepulchre. 

From the Beau Rivage Hotel we took steamer, and sailed 
along the shore, passing Vevay, with its handsome hotels, the 
romantic village of Clarens, and finally landing at Villeneuve, 
rode up to the beautifully situated Hotel Byron. This hotel, 
although small compared with the others, was admirably kept, 
and is in one of the most romantic and lovely positions that 
can be imagined. It is placed upon a broad terrace, a little 
above the shore, and, being at the very end of the lake, com- 
mands an extensive view of both sides, with all the lovely 
and romantic scenery. 

There, as we sat beneath the trees, we looked upon the 
scene, which is just as Byron wrote about it, and as true to 
the description as if written yesterday. The " clear placid . 
Leman " is as blue as if colored with indigo. There was 
Jura; there were "the mountains, with their thousand years 
of snow ; " the wide, long lake below ; there, at our left, wenl 
the swift Rhone, who 

" cleaves his way between 
Heights which appear as lovers who have parted in hate." 

At a little distance we could see 

" Clarens, sweet Clarens, birthplace of deep love ; " 



412 THE PKISON OF OHILLOIf. 

and there, directly before us, was the " small green isle " that 
the prisoner of Chillon saw from his dnngeon window ; and 
only a quarter of a mile away is the Castle of Chillon itself. 
Down the dusty road we started to visit this celebrated place, 
which almost every visitor who has read the poem feels that 
he is acquainted with. 

The castle, which is small, is on a point of land that juts 
out into the lake, and its whole appearance realizes an imagi- 
nation of a gloomy old feudal castle, or prison. It was for- 
merly surrounded by the waters of the lake, and is still con- 
uected on one side with the land by a drawbridge, and the 
lake washes up to its very base, seven hundred feet deep, on 
the other. Something of the romance of the place is taken 
away by the railway track, within a few rods of the draw- 
bridge, and the shrieking locomotive rushes past the very 
point where once stood the castle outworks. 

The massive, irregular walls of this old castle have five or 
six towers, with the loop-holes and battlements of old times. 
We crossed the bridge, passed into the old rooms — the Hall 
of Knights, and the Chamber of Question, where the rack 
and other instruments of torture were used upon the victims 
of jealous tyrants. Here we grasped a now useless fragment 
of old shattered machinery, which had once been bathed with 
the sweat of agony, as the victim's limbs stretched and 
cracked beneath the terrible force of the executioner. Here 
was the huge stone that was fastened to the sufferer's feet 
when he was hoisted by the wrists to the iron staple above. 
This was the square chamber in the solid masonry, where the 
victim's groans were unheard by those without, now trans- 
formed into a peaceful storehouse for an old wagon or two, 
with the sun streaming in at a square opening in the thick 
wall. But a few steps from here, and we come to the oubliette, 
the staircase down which the victim made three or four steps, 
and then went plunging a hundred feet or more into the 
yawning chasm of blackness upon the jagged rocks, or into 
the deep waters of the lake beloAv. 

But vvhat we all came to see were the dungeons beneath 



"SEVEN PILLARS OF GOTHIC MOULD." 413 

the castle, tiie scene of Byron's story. These dungeons are 
several cells, of different sizes, dug out of the rock upon 
which the massive arches of the castle seem to rest. The 
two largest of them are beneath the dining and justice halls. 
From the latter we were shown a narrow staircase, descend- 
ing into a little narrow recess, where victims were brought 
down, and strangled with a roj)e thrown across an oak beam, 
which still remains, blackened with age. Near it was an- 
other narrow, gloomy cell, said to be that in which the pris- 
oner passed the night previous to execution, and near by the 
place where thousands of Jews were beheaded in the thir- 
teenth century, on accusation of poisoning the wells, and 
causing the plague. The gloomy place fairly reeked with 
horror ; its stones seemed cemented with blood, and the very 
sighing of the summer breeze without was suggestive of the 
groans of the sufferers who had been tortured and murdered 
within this terrible prison. 

Next we came to the dungeon where 

" There are seven pillars of Gothic mould," 

and there are the pillars to which the prisoners were chained, 
and there is the stone floor, worn by the pacing of the pris- 
oner, as his footsteps, again and again as the weary years 
went by, described the circuit of his chain. Bonivard's pillar, 
to which he was chained for six weary years, hearing no 
sound but the plashing of the waters of the lake without, or 
the clanking of his own chain, is thickly covered with auto- 
graphs, carved and cut into it. Conspicuous among them is 
that of Byron, which looks so fresh and new as to excite sus- 
picion that it has been occasionally deepened, " Old Mortal- 
ity " like, in order that the record may not be lost. 
Here we were, then, 

" In Chillon's dungeons, deep and old." 

Now every word of Byron's poem, that we had read and 
heard recited at school, and which made such fin impression 
on our mind when a boy, came back to us. 



414 chillon's dungeons. 

Which was the pillar the younger brother was chained to ? 

There was "the crevice in the wall," where the slanting 
sunbeam came in. 

Here was the very iron ring at the base of the huge pillar • 
there were the barred windows — narrow slits, through which 
the setting sun streamed, and to which the prisoner climbed 
to look upon the scene without, — 

" to bend 
Once more upon the mountains high 
The quiet of a loving eye." 

I stood, and mused, and dreamed, as my companions passed 
on, and suddenly started to find myself alone in that terrible 
place, and, with a shudder, I hurried after the voices, leaving 
the gloomy dungeon behind me ; after which the white-cur- 
tained, quiet room of the Hotel Byron seemed a very palace, 
and the beautiful view of lovely lake and lofty mountain a 
picture that lent additional charm to liberty and freedom. 

Is it to be wondered at that so many people quote Byron 
at this place? For it is his poetry that has given such a 
peculiar and nameless charm to it, that if one has a spark of 
poetic fire in his composition, and sits out amid the flowers 
and trees, of a pleasant afternoon, looking at the blue lake, 
the distant, white-walled town, the little isle, with its three 
trees, that the prisoner saw from his dungeon, and even sees 
the eagle riding on the blast, up towards the great Jura range. 
— Jura, that answered, — 

" through her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps, that call on her aloud," — 

and follows up his thought by reading part of the third canto 
of Childe Harold, in which Lake Leman and a thunder storm 
in the Alps are described, he feels very much like repeating it 
aloud. 

Not having Childe Harold to read, I found relief in quoting 
those passages that everybody knows, and doing the follow- 
ing bit of inspiration upon the spot: — 



A BIT OP INSPIRATION. 415 

Druams of tny youth, my boyhood's eastles fair, 

That seemed, in later years, but made of air, 

Are these the scenes that now my soul entrance, 

Scenes hallowed in dim history and romance? 

This dark old castle, with its wave-washed wall, 

Its ancient drawbridge, and its feudal hall, 

Its dreary dungeon, where the sweet sun's ray 

Scarce tells the tenant that without 'tis day ; 

These seven grim pillars of the Gothic mould, 

Where weary years the chained captive told, 

Waited, and wept, and prayed for freedom sweet, 

Paced round the dungeon pillar, till his feet 

Wore in the floor of rock this time-enduring mark 

Of cruelty of men, in ages past and dark. 

Glorious Childe Harold ! How, in boyhood's age, j 

Longing I traced that wondrous pilgrimage. 

Thine imperishable verse invests these mountains grand 

With new glories. Can it be that here I stand 

And gaze, as thou, upon the self-same things ? 

The glassy lake, " the eagle on the blast," who slowly wings 

His flight to the gray peaks that lift their crests on high, 

In everlasting grandeur to the sky ? 

There rise the mountain peaks, here shines the lake ■ 

Familiar scenes the beauteous picture make. 

The "white-walled, distant town," glassed in the tide, 

And on its breast the whiter sails still ride, 

As when thine eye swept o'er the lovely view; 

Thy glorious fancies and imagination grew 

T' immortal verse, and with a nameless charm 

Embalmed the scene for ages yet to come. 

Others shall, deep in Chillon's dungeon drear, 

Muse round th' historic pillars, for 'twas here, 

If Ave accept th' entrancing fable of thy lay, 

The brothers pined, and wasted life away. 

The guide clanks here the rusted iron ring — 

We shudder; "iron is a cankering thing." 

Through the rent walls a silver sunbeam flashes ; 

Faint is the sound of waves that 'gainst them dashes ; 

There is the window where, with azure wing, 

The bright bird perched the prisoner heard sing ; 

Here, 'neath our very feet, perhaps, the place 

The boy, " his mother's image in fair face," 

Was laid. 'Tis but a fable ; yet we love to trace 

These pictures, hallowed in our youthful dreauiSy 

And think thy lay all truthful as it seems. 



416 GENEVA. 

We leave Villeneuve, and the pleasant Hotel Byron, with 
regret, and 

" Once more on the deck I stand, 
Of my own swift-gliding craft; " 

or, in other words, we are again on board one of the pretty 
iittle lake steamers, paddling through the blue waters of Lake 
Geneva. Back we went, past Vevay and Ouchy, with their 
elegant hotels and gardens ; past Clarens, and amid scenes 
of exquisite and picturesque beauty, for five or six hours, till 
we reach Geneva, at the other extreme of this lovely sheet 
of water, about fifty-five miles from Villeneuve. There is 
nothing very striking in this city to the tourist, — none of 
those curious old walls,- towers, cathedrals, or quaint and 
antique-looking streets that he finds in so many of the other 
old European cities. There is a long and splendid row of 
fine buildings upon the quay on the river bank, elegant 
jewelry stores and hotels, a few other good streets, and the 
usual amount of narrow alleys and dirty lanes. 

The pleasantest part of the city seen during our brief stay 
was the fine quays, and the town at that part of the lake 
where it began to narrow into a river, with the splendid 
bridge spanning it, and a little island at about the middle of 
the bridge, or rather just at one side of it, and connecting with 
it by a pretty suspension bridge. This little island is Rous- 
seau's Island, has his bronze statue, and pleasant shade trees 
upon it, a charming little promenade and seats, and is an 
agreeable resort, besides being an admirable point to view 
the blue lake, the River Rhone emerging from it with arrowy 
swiftness, and the snowy Mont Blanc chain of mountains in 
the distance. From the windows of our room in Hotel Ecu 
de Geneve, we look down upon the swiftly-flowing blue tide 
of the river, upon which, nearly all day, black and white 
swans float, breasting against the current, and apparently 
keejfing just about in the same place, arching their necks 
gracefully, and now and then going over to their home on a 
little isle just above Rousseau's, or coming on shore here and 
there — popular pets, and well cared for. 



JEWELRY AND MUSIC BOXES. 417 

The dibplay of jewelry, particularly watches and chains, 
in the splendid shops along the grand quay, is very fine. 
Geneva is bead-quarters for watches and chains, and nearly 
all Americans who mean to buy those articles abroad do 'so 
at Geneva, for two reasons ; first, because „a very good article 
can be bought there much cheaper than at home ; and next, 
because they are always assured of the quality of the gold. 
None is sold at any of the shops in Geneva under eighteen 
carats in fineness. Very handsome enamelled jewelry, of 
the best workmanship, is also sold in Geneva. Indeed, the 
quality of the material and the excellence of the workman- 
ship of the Geneva jewelry are obvious even to the uninitia- 
ted. In Paris more elaborate designs and a greater variety 
can be found, but the prices are from fifteen to twenty per 
cent, highei*. 

I had always supposed, from u boy, that Geneva was over- 
flowing with musical box manufacturers, from the fact that 
all I used to see in the stores at home were stamped with 
the name of that city. Judge of my surprise in finding scarce- 
ly any exhibited in the shop window's here. At the hotel a 
fine large one played in the lower hall, with drum accom- 
paniment, and finding from the dealer's cards beside it that 
it was intended as a sample of his wares, we went to his 
factory across the river, where the riddle was explained in 
the fact that the retail shopkeepers demanded so large a com- 
mission for selling, that the music-box makers had refused to 
send any more to them for sale. This may be a good move 
for their jobbing trade, but death to the retail trade with 
foreigners. Berne is the place for music-boxes. 

Returning across the long bridge to our hotel, we saw a 
specimen of Swiss clothes washing, and which in a measure 
may constitute some of the reasons why some of the inhab- 
itants of this part of the world cbange their linen so seldom. 
Beneath a long wooden shed, with its side open to the swift- 
flowing stream, were a row of stout-armed, red-cheeked wo- 
men bending over a long wash-board, which extended into the 
stream before them. Seeing a shirt, they first gave it a swash 
27 



418 SWISS WASHERWOMEN. 

into the stream ; next it was thoroughly daubed with goap, 
and received other vigorous swashes into the watei, and was 
then drawn forth dripping, moulded into a moist mass, and 
beaten with a short wooden bludgeon with a will ; then come 
two or three more swashes and a thrashing by the stalw art 
washerwoman of the garment down upon the hard board be- 
fore her with a vigor that makes the buttons spatter out into 
the stream like a charge of bird shot. After witnessing this, I 
accounted for the recent transformation of a new linen gar- 
ment by one washing into a mass of rags and button splinters. 
This style of washing may be avoided to some extent by par- 
ticular direction, but the gloss or glazing which the American 
laundries put upon shirt fronts seems to be unknown on the 
continent. 

The sun beat down fiercely as we started out of Geneva, — 
one of the hottest places in Switzerland I really believe, — and 
for fifteen miles or so its rays poured down pitilessly upon 
the unshaded road. Grateful indeed was a verdant little 
valley, bounded by lofty mountains, and the cliff road shaded 
with woods, that we next reached, and rattled through a place 
called Cluses; and going over a bridge spanning the River 
Arve, we entered a great rocky gorge, and again began to 
feel the cold breath of the mountains, and come in sight of 
grand Alpine ranges, snowy peaks, and rushing waterfalls. 
Finally we reach Sallanches. Here we have a fine view of 
the white and dazzling peaks of Mont Blanc towering into 
the blue sky, apparently within two or three miles from where 
we stand, but which our driver tells us are nearly fifteen miles 
away. 

Again we are in the midst of the magnificent scenery of 
the great mountain passes, verdant and beautiful slopes, gray 
splintered peaks, huge mountain walls, wild picturesque crags, 
waterfalls dashing down the mountain sides far and near, 
the whole air musical with then- rush ; and the breath of the 
Alps was pure, fresh, and invigorating as cordial to the 
1 ungs. 

We that a few hours ago were limp, wilted, and moist 



GLAClEliS BY MOONLIGHT. 419 

specimens of humanity, were now blight, cheery, nnd ani- 
mated ; we quoted poetry, laughed, sang, and exhausted our 
terms of admiration at the great rocky peaks that seemed 
almost lost in the heavens, or the fir-clad mountain side that 
jutted its dark fringe sharply against the afternoon sky. Be- 
yond, as ever, rose the pure frosted peaks, and as they glowed 
and sparkled, and finally grew rose-colored and pink in the 
sunset, it became almost like a dream of enchantment, that 
darkness gradually blotted out from view. 

"We had started from Geneva with coat and vest thrown 
aside for a linen duster; we descended into the valley of 
Chamouny with coat and vest replaced, and covered with a 
substantial surtout. As we came down to the village, the 
driver pointed out to us what looked like a great blue steel 
shield, thousands of feet up in the heavens, hanging sharply 
out from the dome of impenetrable blackness above, and shin- 
ing in a mysterious light. It was the first beams of the rising 
moon, as yet invisible, striking upon the clear, blue ice of a 
great glacier far above us. It gradually came more distinctly 
into view, flashing out in cold, icy splendor, as the moon began 
to frost the opposite mountain, from behind which it seemed 
to climb into the heavens with a fringe of pale silver. We had 
expressed disappointment at not being able to enter Cha- 
mouny by daylight, but found some compensation in the 
novel scene of moonlight upon these vast fields of ice, with 
their sharp points rising up like the marshalled spears of an 
army of Titans, glittering in the moonlight, or stretching 
away in other directions in great sheets of blue ice, or ghost- 
ly snow shrouds in the dark distance. We reached the Hotel 
Royal at nine and a half P. M., thoroughly tired with our 
eleven hours' ride. 

Fatigued with travel, I certainly felt no inclination to rise 
early the next morning; and so, when a sonorous cow-bell 
passed, slowly sounding beneath our window at about four 
and a half A. M., I mentally anathematized the wearer, and 
composed myself for a renewal of sleep. Scarce comfort- 
ably settled ere another cow-bell, with a more spiteful clang, 



420 SUNRISE ON MONT BLANC. 

was heard approaching; clank, clink, clank, clink, ake the 
chain about a walking ghost, it neared the window at the 
foot of my couch, passed, and faded off into the distance. 
That's gone ; but what is this distant tinkle ? Can it be there 
is sleighing here, and this is a party returning home ? Tinkle, 
jinkle, tinkle, tinkle — there they come! 

" Away to the window I flew like a flash, 
Tore open " — the curtain, looked out through the sash, — 
" When what to my wondering eyes should appear 
But" 

a procession of goats being driven to pasture by a girl in the 
gray light of the morning! With an ejaculation more fervid 
than elegant, the couch was sought again ; but it was of no 
avail ; a new campanologian company was heard approaching 
with differently toned instruments of torture; this was in 
turn succeeded by another, till it seemed as if every nute in 
the bell-ringing gamut had been sounded, and every contri- 
vance, from a church to a tea bell, had, been rang. 

After half an hour of this torture, flesh and blood could 
endure it no longer, and I went once more to the window, to 
find that beneath it ran the path by which the goats and 
cattle of the whole district were driven to pasture, and, cast- 
ing my eyes upwards, saw the gorgeous spectacle of sunrise 
on Mont Blanc, whose glistening peaks were in full view. 
Half an hour's admiration of this spectacle was enough for 
one not clad for the occasion, and having made the discoverv 
that the cows and goats were all driven to pasture before 
half past six A. M., we took our revenge in two hours of tired 
nature's sweet restorer after that time, before discussing 
breakfast and topographically examining Chamouny. 

Chamouny appears to be a ^ illage of eight or ten hotels, .1 
church or two, and a collection of peasants' huts and pool 
Swiss houses, surrounded on all sides by the grandest and 
most sublime scenery ever looked upon. It seems to be a 
grand central point in Switzerland for the tourists of all na- 
tions. The great hotel? are full, their table d'hotes are noisy 



VALLEY OF CH AMOUNT. 421 

with the clatter of tongues of half a dozen nationalities, and 
gay with the fashions of Paris. The principal portion of the 
inhabitants are either employes of the hotels, or guides, and 
these Chamouny guides are the best, most honest, and most 
reliable of theii craft in Europe. They are formed into a 
regular association, and bound by very strict rules, such as 
not being permitted to guide until of a certain age, not to take 
the lead till after a certain amount of experience ; and absolute 
honesty and temperance being requisite for the service. In- 
deed, I find that some consider honesty a characteristic of 
the Swiss in this region ; for upon my remonstrating with a 
fellow-tourist, an old traveller, for leaving his watch and chain 
exposed upon his dressing-table during his absence from his 
room at the hotel, he replied there was no danger, as the at 
tendants in the wing of the house he occupied were all Swiss, 
and no English, French, or Americans ever came there. To 
be a guide upon the excursions from Chamouny requires a 
man of very steady habits, and of unquestionable skill and 
endurance ; and all of these men that we saw appeared so. 
They are very jealous also of their reputation, and never al- 
low it to be injured by incompetency, dishonesty, or any 
species of imposition upon travellers. 

Here we are in the midst of Alps, a whole panorama of 
them in full view on every side. The- River Arve, a dark- 
colored stream fresh from the glaciers, roars and rushes 
through the valley into which Chamouny seems sunk. 
Above us are great mountains with snowy peaks ; great 
mountains with dark-green pines at their base, and splintered, 
gray, needle-like points ; glittering glaciers, like frozen rivers, 
can be seen coming down through great ravines ; waterfalls 
are on the mountain-sides ; and towering up like a gigantic 
dome, the vastness and awful sublimity of which is inde- 
scribable, is Mont Blanc, which the lover of grand mountain 
scenery will pause and gaze at, again and again, in silent awe 
and admiration. But whither shall we go ? There are dozens 
of excursions that may be made. Looking across a level 
pasture of the valley from our window, we see a watevlall 



■122 VIEW FKOM FLEGEBE. 

leaping down the mountain. An easy path to it is visible, 
and we make a little excursion, in the forenoon, to the Falls 
of Blatiere, just to get used to climbing ; for at two P. M. 
mules were at the door, with trusty guides at their heads, 
and away we started for the ascent of the Flegere, a height 
on the spur of one of the mountains, commanding a fine 
view of the Mer de Glace and Glacier des Bois, which are 
directly opposite. The ascent of this occupied some three 
hours, and the path reminds one very much of the ascent of 
Mount Washington, New Hampshire, although the distant 
scenery is of course incomparably more grand. We went 
through woods, and over rocks, across stony slopes, and up 
zigzags, until finally we reached the Cross of Flegere, the 
point of view. 

From this perch we looked right over across on to the Mer 
de Glace, where it gushed out like a great frozen torrent 
around the Montanvert, and the Glacier des Bois, another 
silent ice torrent, that flowed out of it. At our right, far 
down, five thousand feet below, rested Chamouny, with the 
cloudy Arve running beside it. Away off to the left were a 
number of needle-like peaks, with vast snow-fields between 
them ; and nearly in front of us, a little to the left, rose the 
sharp, jagged points about the Aiguille Verte, and a rigbt 
lofty needle it was, its point piercing the air to the height of 
twelve thousand five hundred feet; and then there were the 
Red Needles, and the Middle Needles, and, in fact, a whole 
chain of peaks of the range — the best view we have had 
yet, including, of course, the grand old snowy sovereign, 
Mont Blanc, at the right, overtopping all the rest. 

An hour was spent gazing upon this magnificent scene; 
after which we began the descent, which was made in about 
an hour and a quarter, bringing us to the hotel door at seven 
P. M. Our leading guide we discovered to be an experienced 
one, of many years' service, who had guided Louis Napoleon, 
on his visit hare in 1861, soon after Savoy was annexed to 
France — a service of which he was quite proud, as the em- 
peror held his hand during his excursion to the centre of the 



CI1MBING AGAIW. 42b 

Mer de Glace (always necessary for safety) ; he was also 
interested in the American war of the rebellion, and, like all 
the Swiss who know enough to read, was strong on the Union 
side of the question. Being an old soldier, the song of 
" Tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," had especial charms 
for him, and he called for a repetition of the " Glory, glory, 
hallelujah " chorus, till he had mastered the words himself, 
from a young Union officer of our party. Of course we 
were glad to engage our cheerful vieux moustache for our 
excursion on the morrow to the Montanvert and Mer de 
Glace. In the evening we were called out to see the lights 
of a party at the Grand Mulets, where they had halted for 
the night, preparatory to completing the ascent of Mont 
Blanc. The sight of the little twinkling flame, away up in 
the darkness, I confess, awakened no desire in my mind to 
make the ascent ; and I fully agree with one of the guide- 
books, which says it cannot conceive why people will undergo 
the trial and fatigue of the ascent, when they can risk their 
lives in a balloon for one half of the expense. 

Next morning we started with guides, and on muleback, 
for the Montanvert, directly opposite the Flegere, the scene 
of our ascent the day before, twenty minutes' ride across the 
meadow, and by the river side; and then we began to ascend 
the mountain, through romantic pine woods, and by a zigzag 
pathway upon the brow of the mountain, crossing, occasion 
ally, the deep channel of an avalanche, or an earth-slide, and 
getting occasional glimpses of the valley below or the moun- 
tain opposite, till, after a three hours' climb, we stand upon a 
rugged crag, overlooking the tremendous and awful sea of 
ice, and the huge mountains that enclose it. 

This great petrified or frozen stream, between its precipi- 
tous banks, seemed more like a mass of dirty snow or dingy 
plaster than ice. Looking far up into the gorge between the 
mountains, we could see where the ice and snow looked 
purer and more glistening than that directly beneath us. 
Indeed, we began to imagine that the terrors of the passage, 
told by travellers and letter- writers, were pure fables ; and, 



424 CKOSSING THE SEA OF ICE. 

to some extent, they are ; and a marked instance of magni- 
fying the dangers is shown in the account of Miss Frederika 
Bremer's experience, quoted in Harper's Guide-Book, which, 
to any one of ordinary nerves, who has recently made the 
passage, appears to be a most ridiculous piece of affectation. 

We descended the rocky sides of the cliff, seamed and 
creased by the ice-flood, and stood upon the great glacier. 
At first, near the shore, it seemed like a mixture of dirty 
snow and ice, siich as is frozen in a country road after a thaw, 
and its surface but slightly irregular, and but little trouble to 
be anticipated in crossing; but as we advanced far into its 
centre, we began to realize more forcibly the appropriateness 
of the title given to this great ice-field. On every side of us 
were frozen billows, sharp, upheaved points, great sjfires of 
ice, congealed waves, as if a mighty torrent were tumbling 
down this great ravine, and had been suddenly arrested by 
the wand of the ice-king in mid career. We came to crevas- 
ses, — broad splits, — revealing the clear, clean, blue ice, as we 
looked hundreds of feet down into them. We crossed and 
passed some of them on nairow ice-bridges, not more than 
two or three feet wide, where notched steps were cut for us 
by the forward guide's hatchet, and we held the firm grasp 
of one before and one behind, to guard against a slip, which 
might have been fatal. 

We passed little pools, which were melted into the bosom 
of this silent field, and now and then a huge piece of rock in 
the midst of a pellucid pool, which had been borne along 
upon the surface of this slow-moving stream since it fell from 
the mountain-side, and gradually sank by its weight, and the 
action of the sun. Midway, we were bidden to halt and look 
away up the ravine, and see the frozen stream that was com- 
ing tumbling down towards us. There was genuine ice 
enough now — waves, mounds, peaks, hillocks, great blue 
sheets, and foaming masses. It sparkled like silver beneath 
the sunbeams between the dark framework of the two 
mountains on either side. We stopped talking. Not a 
sound was heard. The stillness was as profound as the husb 



THE MAUVAIS PAS. 42S> 

preceding a thunder storm ; and, as we listened, the crash of 
a great boulder that had become loosed by the slow-moving 
torrent, falling into a crevasse from its brink, echoed for a 
moment in the solitude, and all was still again. 

The sure-footed guides, with their iron-spiked shoes, led us 
on. The ladies were a trifle nervous as we passed one or 
two of the narrower ice-bridges; but on the route we crossed 
there were not above three or four such, and the whole pas- 
sage was made in less than an hour. Arrived at the other 
side, we clambered up the cliff, and began our descent. I 
should have remarked, that we sent back the mules from 
Montanvert, to meet us upon our descent on the other side 
of the Mer de Glace, on foot, by the way of the Mauvais 
Pas, a tiresome, but most interesting tramp of three or four 
miles, over rugged rocks and rough pathways, but such a 
one as gives real zest to Alpine journeys, from its exciting 
scenes. 

We now entered upon the celebrated Mauvais Pas. I 
had l'ead so much, from youth upwards, about the dangers of 
this pass, that I began to wonder if we had done right in 
bringing ladies, and how we should ^et around that sharp 
projection of the cliff, where a traveller is said to be obliged 
to hold on to the face of the rock, and stretch his leg around 
the projecting cliff, and feel for a foothold, the guides guard- 
ing him from a slip out into empty space, by standing, one 
on each side of the projection, and forming an outside hand 
rail, by holding each end of an alpenstock. Was not this 
the pass where the Swiss hunter met the chamois, and, find- 
ing that neither could turn backward, had lain down and let 
the herd jump over him ? 

But how these travellers' tales and sublime exaggerations 
vanish as one approaches them ! The Mauvais Pas may have 
been tres mauvais many years ago ; but either its dangers 
have been greatly exaggerated, or the hand of improvement 
has rendered it pas mauvais at present. It is a series of 
steps, hewn for some distance along the rocky side of the 
mountain. These steps are about three feet in width from 



426 ALPINE EXPERIENCES. 

the face of the cliff, into which a strong iron rail is fastened, 
by which the traveller may hold on, the whole distance. 
The outer edge is unprotected, and, at some points, it must 
be confessed, it is an ugly look to glance down the tremen- 
dous heights to the jagged rocks below, that form the shores 
of the icy sea ; but in some of the more dangerous places, 
modern improvement has provided an additional safeguard 
in an outer rail, so that the danger is but trifling to persona 
of ordinary nerve. 

Finally, we reach the end of this narrow pathway, and 
tind ourselves at a small house on a jutting precipice, called 
the Chapeau; and here we pause and breathe a while, buy 
beer, Swiss bread and honey, curious Alpine crystals, &c, 
and enjoy another one of tho«e wondrous Alpine views 
which, once seen, live in memory forever as a scene of sub- 
lime beauty and grandeur. 

They call all the mountain peaks needles here. There were 
the Aiguilles de Charm oz, ten thousand two hundred feet 
high, and ever so many other " aiguilles" whose names I have 
not noted. As we looked down here upon the glacier, it 
seemed to be more broken and upheaved ; it rose into huge, 
sharp, icicle-pointed waves, rent in every direction by large 
cracks and fissures ; the great pointed pinnacles and upheav- 
als assumed as curious appearances as the frost-work upon a 
window; there were a procession of monks, the pinnacles of 
a Gothic cathedral, and the ruins of a temple. It is here that 
the Mer de Glace begins to debouche into the Glacier des 
Bois, which, in turn, runs down into the Chamouny valley, 
and from which runs the Arveiron ; in fact, the end of this 
glacier is the river's source. 

Down we go through the woods, and finally strike upon a 
rocky, rugged path, on through a mass of miles of pulverized 
rock, fragments of boulders, stone chips, and the rocky debris 
)f ages, which has been brought down by the tremendous 
grinding of the slow-moving glaciers, till we reach a valley 
covered with the moraine in front of the great ice arches of 
the Glacier des Bois, out of which rushes the river. Oi 



UNDER A GLACIEE. 427 

course here was a wooden hut, with Swiss crystals, carved 
work, and a fee of a franc, if we would like to go under the 
glacier. There had been a winding cavern hewed into this 
great ice wall, and planks laid along into it for two hundred 
feet or more, and, with umbrellas to protect us, the author 
and two other gentlemen started for this ice grotto, about a 
hundred rods distant. 

Arrived near its mouth, we beheld, on one side, the river, 
rushing out from under a great natural ice arch, fifty feet in 
height, the glacier here appearing to be about one hundred 
feet in height ; the stream came out with a force and vigor, 
gained, doubtless, from running a long distance beneath the 
ice before it came out into the daylight. The ice grotto, 
which has been hollowed out for visitors, is eight or ten feet 
high, and the guide, who goes on before, lights it up with 
numerous candles, placed at intervals, causing the clear, deep- 
blue ice to resemble walls of polished steel ; but the thought 
suggested by one visitor when we had reached the farther- 
most extremity, "What if the arches overhead should give 
way beneath the pressure ? " did not incline us to protract our 
stay in its chilly recesses ; so, returning to the chalet, where 
our mules were waiting, that had been sent round and down 
from the Montanvert, we completed the day's laborious ex- 
cursion by an hour's ride back to the hotel at Chamouny. 

Now good by to Chamouny, and away to the Tete Noire 
Pass, on our way to Martigny. Starting at eight o'clock 
A. M., a vehicle carried us to Argentiere, about two hours' 
ride, where mules were found in waiting, by the aid of which 
the rest of the journey, occupying the remainder of the day, 
was made, though why the road of this pass is not laid out 
like others, as a carriage road, I am at a loss to compre- 
hend, unless it be that the fees for mules and guides are too 
I iron' table a source of income to be easily relinquished. In- 
deed, a large portion of the pass, in its present condition, 
could be traversed safely by a one-horse vehicle — some im- 
provement over the tedious muleback ride of a whole day's 
duration. 



428 THE TETE XOIR PASS. 

The Toad is romantic, pleasant, and picturesque, with deep 
gorges, dark pine-clad mountains, crags, and waterfalls. In- 
vigorated by the fresh mountain air, we left our mules to 
follow in the train with the guides and ladies, and, alpenstock 
in hand, trudged forward on foot, keeping in advance by 
short cuts, and having an infinitely better opportunity, under 
the guidance of a tourist who had been over the route, of 
enjoying the scenery. We passed two or three waterfalls, 
walked over a spot noted as being swept by avalanches in the 
early spring, where was a cross in memory of a young count 
and two guides who fell beneath one : the guides say, when 
the avalanche is heard approaching, it is already too late to 
think of escaping, so swift is its career, and nothing but the 
hand of Providence will save the traveller from destruction. 

Our path carried us through a wild, stony ravine, with 
great mountains on either side, and the inevitable river in the 
centre, rushing and foaming over the rocks. Then we went 
up and over a beautiful mountain path, commanding fine 
views of the distant mountains, with deep gorges below, 
then wound round the base of the Tete Noire Mountain and 
through the woods, and a tunnel, pierced through a rocky 
spur of the mountain, that jutted out upon the pass. We 
saw away across, from one point on our journey, the wild- 
looking road that was the route to the Pass of the Great St. 
Bernard, and at another, looked far down into the valley, 
where we could see the River Trient rushing and tumbling 
on its course. We soon came to a point, before commencing 
our descent, which commanded a view of the Rhone valley as 
far as Sion, spread out, seemingly, as flat as a carpet, with the 
river meandering through its entire length, the white chalets 
and brown roads looking rather hot in the blaze of the afternoon 
sunlight. The view of this valley — what little we saw of it — 
is far better at this distance than when one reaches its tumble 
down towns and poor inhabitants. 

We went down a pleasant descent, past orchards and farm- 
houses, till we reached Martigny, where we had supper, and 
were nearly devoured by mosquitos, so that at nine P. M. 



ITALIAN POST DRIVERS. 429 

we were glad to take the railway train. How odd it seemed 
to be rattling over a railroad, in a comfortable railway carriage, 
after our mountain experiences ! The train, at quarter past 
ten o'clock, landed us at Sion, where we took up our quarters 
at the Hotel de la Poste, an Italian inn, with an obsequious 
little French landlord, who was continually bowing, and rub- 
bing his hands, as if washing them with invisible soap, and 
saying, " 0?«, monsieur '," to every qur^+'on that was asked 
him, and withal looking so like the old French teacher of my 
boyhood's days, that it seemed as though it must be the old 
fellow, who had stopped growing old, and been transported 
here by some mysterious means. 

The fifteen-mile mountain tramp I had made, and the day's 
journey, as a whole, caused the not very comfortable beds of 
the hotel to seem luxurious couches soon after arrival, and 
we therefore deferred interviews with Italian drivers, a crowd 
of whom were in attendance from Stresa, via the Simplon 
Road, and who were anxious to open negotiations, till the 
next morning, notwithstanding their assertions that they 
might be engaged and gone when we should come down to 
breakfast, and that we should, therefore, lose the magnificent 
opportunities they were offering. 

We were fortunate in having the company of a gentleman 
who had frequently been over this route, and fully understood 
the modus operandi of making contracts with Italian post 
drivers, as will be seen. It seems that there are often drivers 
here at Sion who have driven parties from Stressa (via the 
Simplon) who desire to get a freight back, and with whom 
the tourist, if he understands matters, can make a very reason- 
able contract, as they prefer to take a party back at a low rate, 
rather than to wait long at an expense, or return with empty 
vehicles. If there be more than one (as in our case) of these 
waiting post drivers, there is likely to be a competition among 
them, which of course results to the tourist's advantage. 

Therefore, after breakfast, instead of "having been engaged 
and gone," we found two or three anxious drivers, who jab- 
bered with all their might about the merits of their respective 



430 MAKING A CONTRACT. 

vehicles and themselves, and were anxious to be engaged. 
The price mentioned as bon marche at first was four hundred 
francs for our whole party of seven for the three days' journey 
over the Simplon Pass to Lake Maggiore; and really, I 
thought it was, and had I been the negotiator for the party 
should have closed ; but not so he who acted for us — acted 
in more senses than one ; for when this price was named, he 
gave the true French deprecatory shrug of the shoulders, 
filled his pipe, and sat down on the hotel portico to smoke. 
Ere long he was waited upon by driver number two, who 
represented that three hundred and fifty francs would induce 
him to take the party, " if monsieur would start to-day" 
Smoker only elevated his eyebrows, and thought if he 
" waited a few days there would be more carriages here." 

In fifteen minutes the price was clown to three hundred 
francs — no anxiety on the part of monsieur to close. 

A smart young driver, whose team had been " eating their 
heads off" for three days, proposed two hundred and twenty 
francs, and to pay all expenses, except our own hotel bills ; and 
monsieur concluded to accept him, putting the agreement, to 
prevent mistakes, in writing, which is necessary with the 
Italian drivers. The contract was duly signed. 

" When would monsieur's party be ready?" 

" In fifteen minutes ; " and the calm, indifferent smoker, to 
the driver's surprise, became a lithe, elastic American, driving 
half a dozen servants nearly crazy by hurrying them down 
with the luggage, mustering the whole party with explana- 
tions of the necessity of starting at once, and helping the 
landlord's major-domo make out the bills, without giving any 
opportunity of getting in extras that we didn't have. 

He shouted in Italian at the driver, who, with the stable- 
helpers, was putting in the horses, jabbered in French with 
the hotel servants, and in half an hour we were seated in the 
vehicle, with the luggage strapped on behind, and the old land- 
lord and the waiters and porters bowing at the door, as we 
started, amid a volley of whip smacks, sounding like the 
firing of a bunch of Chinese crackers. 



THE RHONE VALLEY. 431 

These post drivers are marvellously skilful at whip-snapping, 
l'hey can almost crack out a tune with their whips, and they 
make a noise consistent with their ideas of the importance of 
their freight, or perhaps as a signal to the landlords that esj)e- 
cial attention is required, as distinguished foreigners are com- 
ing ; for, as they approached hotels, or drove into their court- 
yards, it was always with eight or a dozen pistol-like cracka 
in succession that brought out a bowing landlord and string 
of servants, who formed a double line from the carriage 
to the door, welcoming the tourist in with great deference 
and politeness. On the road the whip-cracks admonish all 
peasants, donkey-carts, and market-wagons to sheer off, and 
allow monsieur's carriage to pass ; and, as he enters a little 
village, the fusillade from his lash brings half the population 
to the doors and windows. 

Our first day's journey, after leaving Sion, was through the 
Rhone Valley — rather a hot ride, and tame and uninteresting 
after the grand views we had been enjoying. We passed 
Sierre on a hill-side, rattled over a bridge across the Rhone, 
having a view of pleasantly-wooded hills near at hand, and 
the great mountains in the background ; then passed two or 
three other villages, and finally halted at a place called Tour- 
temagne for dinner. After this we pushed on, went past 
Visp, and in the afternoon trotted into Brieg, where, with a 
view to a good night's rest before the morrow's journey, we 
stopped for the night. After tea we had a magnificent view 
of sunset upon the lofty snow-clads above us, which fairly 
glowed in a halo of rose-pink — a beautiful and indescribable 
effect. Far away up on one of the mountain sides Ave were 
pointed to the road over which we were to journey on the mor- 
row. After an early breakfast we started off with the usual 
fusillade of whip-cracks, and were soon upon the famous Sim- 
plon Road. 

This magnificent road is one of the wonders of the old 
world. Its cost must have been enormous, and the cost of 
keeping it in such splendid condition very large, owing to the 
injury it must inevitably sustain from storms and avalanches 



432 THE SIMPLON PASS. 

during the winter season. The cost of the road is saicl tc 
have averaged over three thousand pounds sterling per mile. 
The splendid engineering excites admiration from even the 
inexperienced in those matters. You go sometimes right up 
the very face of a steep mountain, that would seem to have 
originally been almost inaccessible, by means of a series of 
zigzags. Then again the road winds round a huge mountain 
wall, thousands of feet high on one side, with a yawning 
ravine thousands of feet deep on the othei\ Long tunnels 
pierce through the very heart of mountains. Bridges span 
dizzy heights and mad torrents. Great galleries, or shelters, 
protect some parts of the read, which are suspended midway 
up the mountain, from the avalanches which ever and anon 
thunder down from above. At one place, where a great roar- 
ing cataract comes down, the road is conducted safely under 
the sheet, which scatters but a few drops of spray upon it, ex- 
cept the covered portion, as it leaps clear over the passage, and 
plunges into the deep abyss below, a mass of thundering foam. 

This part of the road, we were told, although it was a sec- 
tion not six hundred feet long, was one of the most difficult 
to construct, and required the labor of a hundred men foi 
over a year and a half before it could be completed, it being 
necessary in some places to suspend the workmen by ropes 
from above, until a platform and a footing could be built. 
And, indeed, standing there with the torrent roaring above, 
and leaping clear over our heads away down into that rocky 
gorge, the clean, broad road the only foothold about there, we 
could only wonder at human skill, perseverance, and ingenuity 
in overcoming natural obstacles. From the great glaciers far 
above the Kaltwasser come several other rushing cascades, 
one of which, as you approach, seems as if it would drop 
directly upon the road itself, but hits just short of it, and 
plunges directly under, so that you can stand on the arched 
bridge, and look right at it, as it comes leaping fiercely to- 
wards you. 

Murray gives the bridges, great and small, on this wonder- 
ful road between Biieg and Sesto as "six hundred and 



THE G0KGE OF GONDO. 433 

eieven, in addition to the far more vast and costly construc- 
tions, such as terraces of massive masonry, miles in length, 
ten galleries, either cut out of the living rock or built of solid 
stone, twenty houses of refuge to shelter travellers, and lodge 
the laborers constantly employed in taking care of the road. 
Its breadth is throughout at least twenty-five feet, in some 
places thirty feet, and the average slope nowhere exceeds six 
inches in six feet and a half." 

A fter emerging from the Kaltwasser Glacier Gallery, we 
had a superb view of the Rhone Valley, with Brieg, which 
we had left in the morning, directly beneath us, while away 
across the valley, distinctly visible in the clear atmosphere, 
rose the Bernese Alps, with the Breithorn, and Aletshorn, and 
the great Aletsch Glacier distinctly visible. At the highesi 
point of the pass is the Hospice, over six thousand two hun 
clred feet above the level of the sea ; and here we halted for 
a lunch, and then trudged on in advance, leaving the carriage 
and ladies to overtake us — enjoying the wild scenery of dis- 
tant snow-capped mountains, great glaciers, with cascades 
pouring from their ruffled edges to the green valleys that were 
far below. 

Soon after passing the little village of Simplon, we came to 
the never-to-be-forgotten ravine of Gondo, one of the wildest, 
grandest, and most magnificent gorges in the whole Alps. 
The ravine, as you proceed, grows narrower and narrower, 
with its huge, lofty walls of rock rising on either side. The 
furious River Diveria rushes through it like a regiment of 
white-plumed cavalry at full gallop, and its thundering roar is 
not unlike the tremendous rush of their thousand hoof-beats, 
as it goes up between these massy barriers. The gorge nar- 
rows till there is nought but road and river, with the black 
crags jutting out over the pathway, and we come to a huge 
black mass that seems a barrier directly across it ; but through 
this the determined engineers have bored a great gallery, and 
we ride through a tunnel of six hundred and eighty-three feet 
in length, to emerge upon a new surprise, and a scene which 
nailed forth a shout of admiration from every one of us. 
28 



434 FRESSmONE WATERFALL, 

As we emerged from this dark, rocky grotto, we beheld the 
towering masses of rock on either side, like great walls of 
granite upholding the blue masonry of heaven, that seemed 
bent like a vaulted arch above ; and from one side, right at 
our very path, coming from far above with a roar like thunder, 
leaped a mass of foam, like a huge cascade of snowy ostrich 
plumes — the Fressinone Waterfall, which tossed its fine, 
scintillating spray upon the slender bridge that spanned tho 
gorge, while the roaring cataract itself passed beneath, strik- 
ing sixty or eighty feet below upon the black rocks. It is a 
magnificen t cascade, and prepared us for the grandeur of the 
great gorge of Gondo, with its huge walls of rock rising two 
thousand feet high, which seemed, when we were hemmed in 
to their prison walls of black granite, as though there was no 
possible way out, except upwards to the strip of sky that 
roofed the narrow ravine. 

Other cascades and waterfalls we saw, but none like the 
magnificent Fressinone, with the graceful and apparently 
slender-arched bridge, that almost trembled beneath its rush 
as we stood upon it — the huge rocky walls towering to 
heaven, the black entrance to the tunnel just beyond, looking, 
in the midst of this wild scene of terrific grandeur, like the 
cavern of some powerful enchanter — the wild, deep gorge, 
with the foaming waters swiftly gliding away in masses of 
tumbling foam far below, and all the surroundings so grand 
and picturesque as to make it no wonder that it is a favorite 
study for artists, as one of the most spirited of Alpine 
pictures. 

We passed the granite pillar that marked the boundary 
line, and were in Italy; and soon after at the mountain cus 
tom-house and inn, where we were to dine. The officials are 
very polite, make scarce any examination whatever of the 
luggage of tourists ; and our trunks remained undisturbed on 
tha travelling carriage while we dined. 

Now we begin to ride towards the valley, and soon begin 
to have Italian views of sunny landscape and trellised vines. 
We reach the town of Domo d' Osscla, and our driver pro- 



DOMO d' essoin. 485 

claims his coming by a feu de joie with the whip. The town 
looks like a collection of worn-out scenery thrown together 
promiscuously from an old theatre. Old shattered arches 
cross the street ; half-ruined houses of solid masonry have the 
graceful pillars of their lower stories broken and cracked, and 
ornamented with strings of onions and bunches of garlic, sold 
in the shops within ; old churches, with a Gothic arch here 
and there, are turned into a warehouse or a stable; tough old 
mahogany-colored women are seen squatting before baskets 
of peaches, grapes, and figs in the streets ; dark-skinned, 
black-eyed girls, with the flat Italian head-dresses seen hi 
pictures; men, dirty and lazy-looking, with huge black whis- 
kers, dark, greasy complexions, in red and blue flannel shirts, 
and their coats thrown over their shoulders without putting 
their arms in the sleeves, the coats looking as though they 
had done many years' duty in denning oiled machinery; 
curious houses with overhanging upper stories ; striped awn- 
ings project outside of upper windows ; a garlicky, greasy, 
Italian smell pervades the narrower streets, from which we 
were glad to emerge into the more open square, upon which 
our hotel — quite a spacious affair — was located. 

Our carriage rattled beneath the arched entrance, and into 
the paved court-yard, where were three or four other similar 
equipages, and two great lumbering diligences, while the rat- 
tling peal of whip-crack detonations must have made the 
landlord think that a grand duke and suite, at least, were 
arriving; for he tumbled out, with half a dozen waiters, por- 
ters, and helpers, in a twinkling, and we were soon bestowed 
in cool and lofty rooms, with many bows and flourishes„ 
This old hotel was a curiosity, many of its rooms opening 
upon the wooden gallery that ran all around and above the 
large paved court-yard, into which diligences arrived, stopped 
for the night, or took up their loads and departed, and post 
carriages came with their freights to and from the Simplon. 
It always had a group or two of drivers harnessing up, or 
wrangling over something or other, or travellers, stowing 
themselves away in the diligence; horses stamping, and 



*3(5 AS ITALIAN IUN. 

jingling their hells and harnesses ; tourists, hunting up lug- 
gage; or couriers, arranging matters for the travelling par- 
ties they were cheating. 

The fatigue of a day's mountain ride, and continued sight 
seeing, however, made us sleep soundly, despite any of these 
noises. Of all fatigues, the tourist ere long discovers the 
fatigue of a constant succession of sight-seeing to be the 
most exhausting ; so that he soon comes to regard a tolerably 
good bed and clean room as among the most agreeable expe- 
riences of his journey. In the morning we were escorted to 
the carriage with many bows by the young Italian landlord, 
and his wife, who, with one of those splendid oval face? 
beautiful hair descending in graceful curve to and away from 
her rich, pure brunette complexion, her wonderful great lus- 
trous eyes, a head such as one seldom sees, except in a paint- 
ing or upon a cameo, made every Englishman or American, 
when he first saw her, start with surprise, utter something to 
his neighbor, and always look at her a second time, evidently 
to the landlord's gratification, for he did not seem to have a 
particle of the traditional Italian jealousy about him — per- 
haps he had been married too long. 

The landlord and his wife said something very }3retty by 
way of a farewell, no doubt, for there were "grazias" 
"buonos" "addios" and some other words, which I remember 
having heard sung by singers at the opera, in his speech, to 
which our driver responded with a royal salute of whip- 
cracks, and we dashed out of the court-yard once more on 
our journey. 

Our road now lay through the Italian valley, and we pass 
Vogogna, Ornavasso, and other towns, and things begin to 
wear a decidedly Italian aspect — the grape trellises, with 
their clustering fruit; half-ruined dwellings, with stucco work 
peeling off them ; the general greasy, lazy, half-briganclish 
look of the men ; and the partiality for high colors in dress 
on the part of the peasant women. Fresh from the invigo- 
rating air of the Alpine passes, we felt the full force of the 
Italian sun. Although late in August, the weather is not 



LAKE MAGGIORE. 437 

hotter, apparently, than in Boston; but when the sun gets 
fairly at you in Italy, it seems to shine clear through, and 
come out on the other side. Fifteen minutes in its blaze, 
without the protection of one of the yellow, green-lined 
umbrellas, will almost wilt the vigor out of anybody but a 
native. It goes through the frame like a Boston east wind. 

With this sun shining from a blue, cloudless, Italian sky, it 
may well be imagined how grateful was a beautiful portion 
of the country, where there were shady olive groves, chest- 
nut and fig trees, and how luscious were our first grapes 
and fruit purchased of the peasant women at the road- 
side. W e passed, as we approached Lake Maggiore, a fine 
granite quarry, which seemed to have been laid under con- 
tribution to furnish posts for the telegraphic line. Think of 
that luxury, granite telegraph posts, fifteen feet high, of clear, 
handsome stone. We rode past them for miles and miles, 
and soon came in sight of the far-famed Maggiore. It was 
beautiful as a picture ; and as our carriage drove along its 
shore, the cool afternoon breeze came fresh and grateful to 
us, after our heated experiences. Across one corner of the 
lake in a ferry-boat, a short drive farther by the lake shore, 
and we whirled up to the splendid Hotel des lies Borromees 
directly fronting the lake, with its beautiful flower-garden, 
with walks and fountains. We found the interior of this 
hotel delightfully cool and clean, the staircases and floors of 
stone, and the bedsteads of iron — advantages of construc- 
tion in Italy the utility of which the traveller soon learns to 
appreciate. 

The lake is as charming as poets have sung and travellers 
told, with its beautiful island and lovely blue waters. The 
Isola Bella, directly opposite my windows, with its splendid 
terraces, one above the other, rising a hundred feet above the 
lake, and rich with its graceful cypresses, lemon trees, mag- 
nolias, orange trees, with golden fruit, and sparkling foun- 
tains, statues, and pillars, peeping through the luxurious 
foliage, is charming to look upon. But when — my siesta 
over, and as the sun was low in the west, with a cool aii 



438 AN ITALIAN PICTURE. 

coining from the water, and the little pleasure-boats, with 
their striped awnings, were gliding hither and thither — I 
saw come down the road for his evening walk a brown-robed, 
barefooted, rope-girdled, shaven friar, and, from the opposite 
direction, a little dark-skinned Italian lad, with pointed hat, 
decorated with gay ribbons, rough leggings bound to his 
knee, and a mandolin in his hand, it seemed, in the s:>ft, 
dreamy, hazy atmosphere, that I was looking upon an old oil 
painting. The effect was heightened when the boy struck 
his instrument, and began to sing — and beautifully he did 
sing, too. I have heard worse singing by some whose names 
were in large letters on the 'opera bills. The friar halted, 
and leaned on a gray rock at the road-side to listen, while he 
toyed absently with his rosary. Two or three peasant girls, 
in their bright costumes, and one with an earthen jar on her 
head, paused in a group, and a barelegged boatman, in a red 
cap, rested two tall oars upon the ground, the whole forming 
so picturesque a group as to look as if posed for a picture. 

How pleasant is an evening sail on this lovely lake ! how 
tomantic are Isola Bella and its sister islands! how like a 
soft, dreamy picture is the whole scene ! and how all the sur- 
roundings seemed exactly fitted to harmonize with it! — a 
purely Italian scene, the picturesque beauty of which will 
long linger in the memoiy. 

We had a delightful sail from Stressa, along the shores of 
Maggiore to Sesto Calende, heard the sweet sound of con- 
vent bells come musically across its glassy tide, passed Arona, 
behind which we could see the colossal bronze statue of San 
Carlo Borromeo, sixty-six feet high, placed upon a pedestal 
forty feet in height, looking like an immense giant, with its 
hand stretched out towards the lake from the hill on which 
it stands. From Sesto Calende the railway train conveyed 
us to Milan, where we were landed in a magnificent railway 
station, the waiting room?, large and lofty, the ceiimgs ele- 
gantly frescoed, and the walls painted with beautifully 
executed allegorical pictures and Italian landscapes, giving 
one the idea that he had arrived in a country where artistic 



MILAN. 439 

painting was a drug in the market, so lavishly was it used in 
this manner in the railway stations. 

Our rooms at the Hotel Cavour look out on a handsome 
square and the public gardens. In the square stands a statue 
of Cavour, upon a pedestal placed at the top of a set of 
granite steps. Upon these steps, seated in the most natural 
position, is a bronze figure of the genius of fame or history 
(a female figure) represented in the act of inscribing Cavour's 
name with her pen upon the bronze pedestal. And so nat- 
ural is this representation, that strangers who see the group 
in the evening for the first time, often fancy that some unau- 
thorized person has got into the enclosure, and is defacing 
the statue. 

The first sight to be seen in Milan is the cathedral ; and 
before this magnificent architectural wonder, all cathedrals I 
have yet looked upon seem to sink into insignificance. 

A forest of white marble pinnacles, a wilderness of elegant 
statues, an interminable maze, and never-ending mass of 
bewildering tracery, greets the beholder, who finds himself 
gaping at it in- astonishment, and wondering where he will 
begin to look it over, or if it will be possible for him to see it 
all. The innumerable graceful pinnacles, surmounted by 
statues, the immense amount of luxurious carving prodigally 
displayed on every part of the exterior, strike the visitor 
with amazement. Its architecture is Gothic, and the form 
that of a Latin cross ; and to give an idea of its size, I copy 
the following authentic figures of its dimensions : " The 
extreme length is four hundred and eighty-six feet, and the 
breadth two hundred and fifty-two feet; the length of the 
transept two hundred and eighty-eight feet, and the height 
inside, from pavement to roof, one hundred and fifty-three 
feet ; height from pavement to top of the spire, three hun- 
dred and fifty-five feet." 

After taking a walk around the exterior of this wonderful 
structure, and gazing upon the architectural beauties of the 
great white marble mountain, we prepared to ascend to the 
A'oof before visiting the interior. 



440 MILAN CATHEDBAL. 

This ascent is made by a broad white marble staircase of 
one hundred and fifty-eight steps, the end of which being 
reached, the visitor finds himself amid an endless variety of 
beautiful pinnacles, flying buttresses, statues, carvings, and 
tracery. Here are regular walks laid out, terminating in 01 
passing handsome squares, in the centre of which are life-size 
statues by Canova, Michael Angclo, and other great sculptors. 
You come to points commanding extensive views of the 
elegant flying buttresses, which are beautifully wrought, and 
present a vista of hundreds of feet of white marble tracery 
as elegant, elaborate, and bewildering as the tree frost-work 
of a New England winter. 

Here is a place called the " Garden," where you are sur- 
rounded by pinnacles, richly ornamented Gothic arches, flying 
buttresses, with representations of leaves, flowers, pome- 
granate heads, tracery, statuary, and ornaments in such prod- 
igality as to fairly excite exclamation at the profuseness dis- 
played. In every angle of the building the eye meets new 
and surprising beauties, magnificent galleries, graceful arcs, 
and carved parapets, pointed, needle-like pinnacles, Gothic 
arches, and clustered pillars. 

We come to where the carvers and stone-cutters are at 
work. They have a regular stone-cutters' yard up here on 
the roof, with sheds for the workmen and stoi;e-carvers, and 
their progress is marked on the building by the fresher hue 
of the work. These old cathedrals are never finished ; theii 
original plans are lost, and there always seems to be some 
great portion of the work that is yet to be carried out. We 
should have got lost in the maze of streets, squares, and pas- 
sages upon the roof, without a guide. 

A total ascent of five hundred and twelve steps carries the 
visitor to the platform of the great cupola, from which a fine 
view of the city is obtained, the plains surrounding it bounded 
by the girdle of distant, snow-capped mountains. Directly 
beneath can be seen the cruciform shape of the gieat cathe- 
dral ; and looking down, we find that one hundred and thirty- 
six spires and pinnacles rise from the roof, anl that clustered 



A VAST INTERIOR. 441 

on and about them is a population of over thirty-jive hundred 
Btatues. Nearly a hundred are said to be added each year 
by the workmen. Amid this bewildering scene of architec- 
tural wonders, it is not surprising that two hours passed ere 
we thought of descending; and even then we left no small 
portion of this aerial garden, this marble forest of enchant 
ment, with but the briefest glance. 

But if the roof was so beautiful, what must be the appear 
ance of the interior of this great temple ? 

It was grand beyond description ; the great nave over four 
hundred feet in length, the four aisles with their vistas of 
nearly the same length of clustered pillars — four complete 
ranges of them, fifty-two in all — supporting the magnificent 
vaulted arch one hundred and fifty feet above our heads. 
The vastness of the space as you stand in it beside one of the 
great Gothic pillars, the base of which, even, towers up nearly 
as high as your head — the very vastness of the interior 
causes you to feel like a fly under the dome of St. Paul's. 
An idea of the size of this cathedral may be had from the 
fact, that while workmen with ladder, hammer, and tools 
were putting up a painting upon the walls at one end of the 
church, the priests were conducting a service with sixty or 
seventy worshippers at the other, undisturbed by the noise 
of hammer or metal tool, the blows of which, e\ on if listened 
for, could scarce be heard beyond a faint click. 

A good opera-glass is a necessity in these great cathedrals, 
a good guide-book is another ; and I find the glass swung by 
its strap beneath one arm, and the tourist's satchel beneath 
the other, positive conveniences abroad, however snobbish 
they may appear at home. 

There are five great doorways to the church, and the 
visitor's attention is always called by the guide to the two 
gigantic pillars near the largest door. These are single 
columns of polished red granite, thirty-five feet high and 
four feet in diameter at the base ; they support a sort of bal- 
cony, upon which stand the colossal figures of two saints, 
All along the sides of the cathedral are chapels, elegant' mar- 



44 2 A WONDERFUL STATUE. 

ble altars and altar tombs, interspersed with statues and pic- 
tures. The capitals of many of the great columns have finely 
carved statues grouped about them ; some have eight, ana 
others more. The ceiling of the vaulted roof, which, from 
the pavement, appears to be sculptured stone-work, is only 
a clever imitation in painting; but the floor of the cathedral 
is laid out in mosiac of different colored marbles. 

With what delight we wandered about this glorious inte- 
rior ! There was the great window, with its colored glass, rep 
resenting the Virgin Mary's assumption, executed by Bertini. 
Here were the monument raised by Pius IV. to his brothers, 
cut from fine Carrara marble, except the statues, after .Michael 
Angelo's designs ; the pulpits, that are partly of bronze work, 
and elegantly ornamented with bass-reliefs which encircle 
two of the great pillars, and are themse 1 ves held up by huge 
<^ caryatides ; numerous monuments, among them the bright- 
red marble tomb of Ottone Yisconti, who left his property to 
the Knights of St. John, who erected this monument ; the 
beautiful carved stalls of the choir, the high altar and mag- 
nificent Gothic windows behind it. 

In the south transept is the celebrated statue of St. Bar- 
tholomew, who was flayed alive, and who is represented as 
having, undergone that operation and taking a walk, with his 
own skin thrown carelessly over one arm, after the manner 
of an overcoat which the weather has rendered oppressive 
to the wearer. But this statue can hardly fail to chain the 
spectator some moments to the spot, on account of the hid- 
eous accuracy with which every artery, muscle, and tendon 
appear to be represented. 1 had never thought before how 
a man might look when stripped of that excellent fitting gar- 
ment, the cutis vera ; but this statue gave me as correct an 
idea of it as I ever wish to obtain. It is said to have been 
executed, not by the sculptor Praxiteles, and to be wondeTfuI- 
ly correct in anatomical detail. The latter fact can hardly 
be doubted by any who look upon the marvellous skill which 
appears to have been exhausted upon every part of it. Shock- 
ing as it appeared, I found myself drawn, again and again, to 
to look upon it ; such is its effect as a wondrous work of art. 



DEATH AND DKOSS. 443 

Now the guide leads to a crypt below the pavement. We 
are to visit the chapel where rests the good St. Charles Bor- 
romeo, who died nearly three centuries ago. We go down 
nine or ten steps, pass through a passage lined with the rich- 
est marbles, a portal adorned with splendid columns, with 
their capitals and bases richly gilt, and stand in the sepulchral 
chapel of the saint. It is a small octagonal apartment, light- 
ed by an opening from above, which is surrounded by a rail, 
so that the faithful may look down upon the sarcophagus 
below. The walls of this' apartment are formed of eight mas- 
sive silver bass-reliefs, representing remarkable events in the 
saint's life. Then in the angles are eight caryatides of mas- 
sive silver, representing his virtues. The sarcophagus, which 
rests upon the altar, is a large bronze box mounted with sil- 
ver. A douceur of five francs to the attendant priest, and he 
reverently crosses himself, and, bending at a crank, causes the 
bronze covers of the shrine to fold away, revealing to our 
view the dead body of the saint, in a splendid transparent 
coffin of pure rock crystal, bound with silver, and ornament- 
ed also Avith small silver statues, bearing the cipher of the 
royal donor, Philip IV. of Spain. 

There lay the good bishop, who had preached humility all 
his life, arrayed in his episcopal garb, which was one blaze of 
precious stones. Diamonds of the purest water flashed back 
their colored light to the glare of the altar candles ; rubies, 
like drops of blood, glowed in fiery splendor, and emeralds 
shone green as sea-waves in the sunlight. The saint held 
in his left hand a golden pastoral staff; fairly crusted with 
precious stones. A splendid cross ol emeralds and diamonds 
is suspended above him within tnn shrine ; it is the gift of 
Maria Theresa, and about the head is a magnificent golden 
crown, rich with the workmanship of that wonderful artificer, 
Benvenuto Cellini, the gift of the Elector of Bavaria. But 
there, amid all these flashing jewels, that which the rich habili- 
ments failed to conceal, was the grinning skull, covered with 
the shrivelle:! skin black with age, the sunken eye-sockets, 
and all bearing the dread signet-stamp of Death ; making it 



444 HOARDS OF THE CHUKCH. 

seem a hideous mockery to trick out these crumbling remains 
with senseless trappings, now so useless to the once mortal 
habitation of an immortal soul. We leave the saint to sleep 
in his costly mausoleum, his narrow, eight-sided chamber, 
and its riches, representing one hundred and sixty thousand 
pounds sterling, and follow our guide to view more of the 
wealth of the church. 

Here we are in the sacristy, and the custodian shows ua 
two huge statues of St. Charles and St. Ambrose of solid 
silver, and their sacerdotal robes thickly studded with jewels , 
magnificent silver busts, life-size, of other bishops ; elegant 
gold candelabra ; goblets and altar furniture of rare and ex- 
quisite workmanship ; silver lamps, censers, chalices, &c, of 
those rare, delicate, and beautiful old patterns that were a 
charm to look upon ; missals studded with precious stones ; 
rich embroideries, rare altar-pieces, and one solid ornamental 
piece of silver-work, weighing over one hundred pounds. All 
these riches locked up, useless here, save as a sight to the 
wonder-seeking tourist ; while poor, ragged worshippers of the 
church of Rome are prostrating themselves without, before 
the great altar, from which they rise and waylay him as he 
passes out, to beseech him — the heretic — for a few coppers, 
for the love of God, to keep them from starvation. I can 
well imagine what rich plunder old Cromwell's bluff Round- 
heads must have found in the Roman Catholic cathedrals of 
England, although I have more than once mentally anathe- 
matized their vandalism, which was shown in defacing and 
destroying some of the most beautiful specimens of art of the 
middle ages. 

The old Church of St. Ambrosio is an interesting edifice 
to visit, with its curious relics, tombs, altars, and inscriptionsc 
The principal altar here is remarkable for its richness; its 
sides are completely enclosed in a strong iron-bound and 
padlocked sheathing, which, however, the silver key unlocked, 
and we found the front to be sheathed in solid gold, elegantly 
enamelled and ornamented, the back and sides being of solid 
silver ; all about the border, corners, and edges were set everj 



THE LA SCALA THEATRE. 445 

species of precious stones, cameos', and rich jewels. The 
rubies, amethysts, topazes, &c, were in the rough, uncut ; but 
the goldsmith's work, carving and chasing, was elaborate, and 
the dirty friar who exhibited the sight, with small candles, 
about the size of pen-holders, stuck between his fingers, took 
much pride in pointing out the beauties of the work, and hold- 
ing his little candles so that their light might be the more 
effectual to display them. The back was all covered with 
representations of the principal events in the life of St. Am- 
brose, separated from each other by enamelled borders. 

Wc next went to the refectory of the Church of Santa 
Maria delle Grazie, and saw Leonardo da Vinci's celebrated 
painting of the Last Supper, the picture that we are all famil- 
iar with from childhood, from having seen it in Bibles, story- 
books, and engravings. In fact, it is the picture of the Last 
Supper always referred to when the representation is spoken 
of. I could not go into raptures over this half-defaced fresco, 
which has had a door cut through one portion of it, has sus- 
tained the damage incidental to the refectory, being used as a 
cavalry stable, and has twice been nearly all painted over by 
bad artists since the great painter left it ; and he, in his prep- 
aration of the wall for the painting, used a process which 
proved a failure, causing it to fade and flake off. Although 
this is the great original, from which so many copies are taken, 
— and it is something to have seen the original, — we think we 
have seen more than one copy far more striking and more 
beautiful in its finish. 

A ramble through Victor Emmanuel's palace gave us an 
opportunity of seeing some fine pictures, the great state ball- 
room, elegantly-frescoed ceilings, and the rich furniture and 
tapestry, that one ere long begins to find are in some degree, 
when no historical association is connected with them, so 
much alike in all palaces. The celebrated La Scala Theatre 
was closed for the season during our visit to Milan ; but the 
custodians have an eye to business. They keep the lower 
row of gas-lights burning, turned low, and for a consideration 
turn on the gas, and light up the vast interior sufficiently for 
visitors to get something of an idea of it. 



446 AKT TREASURES. 

Notwithstanding its vast size, the excellence of its internal 
arrangements for seeing and hearing is remarkable. Stand- 
ing upon the stage, we delivered a Shakespearian extract to 
an extremely select but discriminating audience, whose ap- 
plause was liberally, and, need we add, deservedly bestowed. 
I know not how it may be when the house is filled with an 
audience, but it appeared to us that its acoustic properties 
were remarkable, for a " stage whisper " could be distinctly 
heard at the extreme rear of the centre of the first row of 
boxes, while the echo of the voice seemed to return to the 
speaker on the stage, as from a sounding-board above his 
head, with marvellous distinctness. This house will hold an 
audience of thirty-six hundred persons. The distance from 
the centre box to the curtain is ninety-six feet ; width of the 
stage, fifty-four feet ; and depth of the stage behind the cur- 
tain, one hundred and fifty feet — room enough for the most 
ambitious scenic display. The form of the house is the usual 
semicircle, there being forty-one boxes in each row. Many of 
those in the first row have small withdrawing-rooms. One — 
the Duke Somebody's — has a supper room, in which his high 
ness and friends partake of a petit souper between the acts, 
there being cooking conveniences for the preparation of the 
same below. 

The brevity of our visit to Milan causes the day that was 
devoted to the wonderful library, the Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 
with its grand halls, its one hundred and fifty thousand vol- 
umes, and eight thousand manuscripts, rare autographic and 
literary treasures, and the great halls of paintings, where the 
works of Guido, Paul Veronese, Raphael, Da Vinci, and Ru- 
bens adorn the walls, to seem like a wondrous dream ; and 
our general rule being to see thoroughly what we saw, we 
regretted that we had even attempted these two interesting 
galleries — places which, to any one having any taste what- 
ever for art or literature, it is little less than an aggravation 
to be hurried through. 

By rail from Milan we came to a place about a mile from 
Coino, where omnibuses conveyed us through that hot, vile- 



LAKE COMO. 447 

smelling, filthy Italian town to the pier on the lake, where the 
steamer was waiting our arrival, and which we were right 
glad to have paddle out into the lake from the Tile odors that 
surroundod us. But once out upon the blue waters, and free 
from the offence to our nostrils, how charming was the scene! 
The dirty city that we had left was picturesque on the undu- 
lating shore, with its old tower, sjjires, and quaint houses. 
As we sailed along, beautiful villas were seen on the shore, 
their fronts with marble pillars, their gardens with terraces 
rich in beautiful flowers, and adorned with statues, vases, and 
fountains ; marble steps, with huge carved balusters, ran 
down to the very water's edge, where awning-covered pleas- 
ure-boats were in waiting — just such scenes as you see on 
the act-drop at the theatre, and believe to be mere flights of 
artistic fancy, but which now are found to exist in reality. 

At a point where Lake Como divides into two arms, one 
extending to Como and the other to Lecco, we passed Bellag- 
gio, one of the most beautiful spots ever seen. It is on a high 
promontory at this point, commanding extensive views of the 
lake and surrounding country. The promontory is covered 
with the elegant villas of wealthy people. 

There is something luxurious and charming in a sail upon 
this lovely lake, with the beautiful villas upon its shores, the 
vine-clad hills, with the broad-hatted peasant women seen 
among the grape-vines, white turret ed churches, brown, dis- 
tant convents, from which the faint music of the bell came 
softened over the water, the long reaches of beautiful land- 
scape view between the hills, the soft, blue sky, and the de- 
licious, dreamy atmosphere. A charming lake is Como, but 
with many objects, "'tis distance lends enchantment to the 
view." 

A boat put off from a romantic little cove for the steamer, 
which paused for its arrival. Its occupants were a stalwart 
rower, in blue shirt, red cap, and black slashed breeches, a 
sort of Massaniello-looking fellow, who bent to the oars with 
a will, and a friar, Avith shaven crown and brown cowl, with 
. cross and rosary at his waist. Soon after we saw the holy 



448 ITALIAN MONKS. 

man on board ; and certainly he did not believe cleanliness 
was next to godliness, for all that was visible of his person 
was filthy, and evidently not on frequent visiting acquaintance 
with soap and water, while the vile odor of garlic formed 3 
halo of nearly three feet in circumference about his person — 
an odor of sanctity requiring the possession of a stomach not 
easily disturbed to enable one to endure it. I once saw one 
of these friars at a railway station, whose curious blending of 
the mediaeval and modern together in his costume and occupa- 
tion struck me as so irresistibly comical that I could not re- 
sist a laugh, much to his amazement. But fancy seeing a 
friar, or monk, in the sandals, brown robe, and corded waist, 
just such as you have seen in engravings, and whom you 
naturally associate with Gothic cathedrals, cloistered convents, 
as bearing a crosier, or engaged in some ecclesiastical occupa- 
tion — fancy seeing a monk in this well-known costume, near 
a railway station, his head surmounted with a modern straw 
hat, a sort of market-basket in his hand, and smoking a cig- 
arette with great nonchalance as he watched the train ! 

We landed at Colico, at the end' of the lake — a filthy place, 
Avhere dirt was trumps, and garlic and grease were trium- 
phant. We attempted a meal at the hotel while the diligence 
was getting ready; but on coming to the board, notwith 
standing it was with sharpened appetites, the dirt and odor 
were too much for us, and we retreated in good order, at the 
expense of five francs for the landlord's trouble and unsuc- 
cessful attempt. A diligence ride of eighteen miles brought 
us to Chiavenna at eight o'clock P. M. Here the hotel was 
tolerable, the iandlord and head waiter spoke English, and, 
late as it was, we ordered dinner, for we were famished ; and a 
very delectable one we had, and comfortable rooms for the 
night. Chiavenna is a dull old place, with the ruins of the 
former residences and strongholds of the old dukes of Milan 
scattered about it. One old shattered castle was directly op- 
posite our hotel. 

We now prepared for a journey from here over another 
Alpine pass, the Splugen. This pass was constructed by the 



MADESIMO WATERFALL. 449 

Austrians, in 1821, in order to preserve for themselves a good 
passage ovei to Lombardy. We engaged our post carnage as 
usual, with a fair written contract with the driver, — necessary 
when agree: ng with an Italian, to prevent mistakes, — and 
preliminaries being settled, started off with the usual rattle 
of whip-cracks, rode through pleasant scenery of vineyards, 
mountain slopes, and chestnut trees, and soon began to wind 
on our way upwards. Passing the custom-house in the little 
"village of Campo Dolcino, thirty-three hundred feet above the 
level of the sea, we are again upon the beautifully engineered 
road of an Alpine pass, and at one point the zigzags were so 
sharp and frequent that the granite posts protecting the edge 
of the road presented the appearance of a straight row di- 
rectly in front of us, rising at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
although the real ascent by the numerous windings is com- 
paratively easy and apparently slight. 

As we went winding up, back and forth, we came in sight 
of the beautiful Madesirao Waterfall, seen from various angles 
of the road pouring down from far above us to the valley be- 
low. Each turn gave us a different view. It was a succes- 
sion of pictures of valley and cascade, until we finally passed 
through a covered gallery, and our road led us past the cliff 
over which the level stream took its leap for its downward 
career. 

Leaving the carriage, we walked to a small projecting table 
rock directly overhanging the ravine, — a portion of the rock 
over which the stream falls, — where, leaning over the iron 
railing, — grasped, we confess, with a firm clutch, — we looked 
down to the frothy foam of the waterfall, seven hundred feet 
below. It was a fine point of view — an exciting position to 
feel one's self so near a terribly dangerous place, and yet be 
safe, to defy danger, enjoy the beauty of the cascade, and 
measure with the eye the great distance of its leap. 

After leaving here, we begin to enter a wild, and in winter 

a dangerous, poi'tion of the pass. This is the Cardinell 'Gorge. 

Not only are the zigzags sharp and frequent, but we come to 

great covered galleries, made of solid masonry, with sloping 

29 



450 THE SPLUGEN PASS. 

roofs, to cause avalanches, that are constantly precipitated 
from above, to slide off, and thus protect travellers and the 
road itself. The galleries are wonderful pieces of workman- 
ship. One of them is six hundred and fifty, another seven 
hundred, and a third fifteen hundred and thirty feet in length. 
They are lighted by openings at the sides. We have fine 
views of the lofty mountains all around, and the deep gorges 
lorn by countless avalanches; and now we reach one of the 
houses of refuge. We stand fifty-eight hundred and sixty 
feet above the level of the sea. The air is cold, and over- 
coats are comfortable. On we go, and at length shiver in the 
glacier's breath at the boundary line between Switzerland and 
Italy — the summit of the pass six thousand eight hundred 
and eighty feet above the sea. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Once more we are in sight of the familiar snow-clads and 
ice-fields ; the glaciers are in sight in every direction ; there 
are the mountain peaks, the names all terminating with 
"horn." Our old friend, the Schneehorn, shoots his peak 
ten thousand feet into the air, and the Surettahorn lifts its 
mass of ice nine thousand three hundred feet high into the* 
clear sunlight, and we are again amid the grand Alpine 
scenery I have so often described. Now we begin our de- 
scent, zigzag, as usual, through wild mountain scenery, till at 
last we whirl through a long gallery," and, with a salute of 
whip-snappings, enter the village of Splugen ; through this, 
and out again into another grand Alpine landscape, taking in 
a view of the peaks of the Zapporthorn and Einshorn, each 
over nine thousand feet high, and away off in the distance, 
the chalets of a Swiss village, perched in among the moun- 
tains. Down we go, at full trot, through the beautiful Roftia 
Ravine, picturesque in the twilight, with its rocky walls, 



THE VIA MALA 451 

and its rattling cascades of the River Rhine dashing over the 
rocky bed. There is one nlace where there is barely room 
for the Rhine and the road to pass through the rocky gate- 
way of the pass. The scenery is wild, but at the same time 
there were trees, with luxuriant foliage, that were pleasant to 
the eye ; beautiful larches, black spruces, and other trees ol 
that kind, softened the rough aspect of the mountains. 

We were not sorry to draw rein at dusk at the village of 
Aodeer, where we had only a tolerable lodging, and a very 
bad breakfast ; after which we were once more on the road, 
and soon reached the valley of six streams, which glide down 
the mountains, on either side, to the green valley below, with 
its pretty farm-houses and green pastures. Soon, after leaving 
this, we enter upon the celebrated Via Mala. 

This narrow pass seems like a great cleft, cut by a giant's 
knife, into a huge loaf; the pathway through it, until 1822, 
was only four feet wide. The carriage-road and the river 
now seem as if squeezed into the gap, that might at any 
moment snap together and crush them. Huge perpendic- 
ular rocky walls rise to the height of fifteen hundred feet 
on either side ; the River Rhine runs through the gorge 
three hundred feet below the road, which crosses and re- 
crosses it three or four times by means of bridges ; the great 
walls of rock, in some places, seem almost to meet above, and 
shut out the full light of day, the space is so narrow; for the 
river forces its way through a cleft, only fifteen feet wide 
between the rock, and at one place there is a gallery, two 
hundred feet long, cut through the solid rock. Although the 
river is three hundred feet below the road, yet the cleft be- 
tween the mountain is so narrow that spring freshets will 
raise it a hundred feet or more. A woman, who, at the highest 
bridge, drops stones down to the tide below, for tourists to 
count ten before they strike the water, points out a mark 
upon one of the bridges, noting a remarkable rise of the river 
in 1834, when it came up nearly two hundred and fifty feet, 
to the arch of this bridge, and then solicits a few sous for hei 
services. 



452 WONDERS OF THE PASS. 

This wild, dark, and gloomy gorge, with its huge over- 
hanging curtains of solid rock, the pathway clinging to its 
sides, the roarii g torrent under foot, arched bridges crossing 
its chasms, and tunnels juercing its granite barricades, is titer 
ally a pathway wrenched through the mountain's everlasting 
wall. It cannot fail to make a profound impression by ita 
gloomy grandeur and wild beauty, especially at one point, 
where the eye can sweep away through the gorge, as if look- 
ing thiough a vast rocky tube, and rest upon green, sunny 
slopes, and pleasant, smiling scenery beyond. 

We reach the pleasant village of Thusis, where the river 
Nolla flows into the Rhine ; and there is, from the bridge that 
spans it, a beautiful view of the valley in a ring of mountains 
and an old castle, the oldest in Switzerland, perched on a 
crag, high above the river. Here, at the Hotel Adler, rest 
and an excellent lunch were both obtained, after which the 
whip cracked good by, and we rattled on, through villages, 
and now and then over arched bridges, and past picturesque 
water-wheels, or little Roman Catholic churches, till at last 
we come to one great bridge of a single arch, crossing the 
Rhine near Reicehnau — a bridge eighty feet above the river, 
and two hundred and thirty-seven feet long. We pass the 
pretty village of Ems, and next reach Coire, where our car- 
riage journey ends, the driver is paid, and we enjoy the novelty 
of half an hour's ride by rail to Ragatz. 

Here, while enjoying a rest at sunset, Ave had from the 
hotel balcony a glorious view of a long line of mountains, 
and a huge, flat wall of rock, upon which the setting sun 
strikes after streaming between two great mountains, and 
makes it look like a huge sheet of light bronze — one of 
(hose novel and indescribable effects that you see only in 
the Alps. 

The great wonder here, and, in fact, one of the greatest 
wonders of Switzerland, is the Tamina Gorge and Pfaffers 
Baths, which next morning we rode to see. A drive of two 
miles, through a wild, romantic gorge, — the road, a part of 
the distance, hewn out of the solid ledge, and the river tearing 



TAMINA GORGE. 453 

along over its jagged bed of rocks below,: — brought us to the 
hotel of the bath establishment (or, rather, it is the hotel and 
bath establishment combined), excellently kept and managed, 
and planted here between two great walls of rock on either 
side, six hundred feet high. The water is con \ eyed down to 
it from the hot springs in the gorge, about a quarter of a 
mile above, in pipes. Leaving the hotel, we ascend on foot 
up through this wonderful crack in the mountains. It is a 
cleft, ranging in width from twenty to forty feet, the pathway 
a plank walk, five feet wide, affixed by staples to one side 
of the solid rock. 

These walls of rock rise to the height of four or five hun- 
dred feet above the path, and, at some points, actually meet 
together overhead, while the narrow strip, or aperture, for 
most of the way, lets in light only sufficient to render visible 
a huge, black, awful chasm, the sides shiny, and dripping with 
moisture, and a torrent roaring, fifty feet beneath our path, 
waking a hundred strange echoes. This wild and wondrous 
passage is " into the bowels of the land " a distance of 
eighteen hundred and twenty feet ; and sometimes the pas- 
sage brings us to where the action of the waters has hol- 
lowed out a huge, rocky dome, and the foaming river whirls 
round in a great, black pool, as if gathering strength for a 
fresh rush from its rocky prison. 

As we gradually approach the upper end of this wild gorge, 
and leave these weird chambers behind, we come to a point 
where clouds of steam are issuing from a cavern — a cave 
within a cavern — apparently the very pit of Acheron itself. 
Into this steaming grotto we penetrate. It is a vaulted cave, 
ninety feet in length ; a great natural steam-bath. Our visages 
were damp with perspiration, which started from every pore, as 
we stood at the brink of the hot spring, which was clear as crys- 
tal, scentless, and at a temperature of one hundred degrees Fah- 
renheit. One does not wish to remain in this cavern any length 
of time, unless fully prepared for a vapor bath; consequently, 
we were soon outside, in the outer cavern or gorge again. The 
pipes conveying the waters from the springs to the bat! -house 



454 FALLS Or SCHAFFHATJSEN. 

and hotel run along the side of the rocky wall, next the plank 
pathway,, We retrace our steps back through this wondrous 
gorge, with its tall, rocky walls hundreds of feet above our 
heads, and its foaming torrent leaping beneath us ; pass again 
beneath the granite dome, pass little weird grottos, and, 
through the narrow cleft ; look away up to the strip of sky- 
shining like a band of blue satin ribbon over the gap, and 
finally emerge once more upon the open road, where oui 
carriage is waiting. We returned over the romantic road 
that brought us to this great wonder of the Alpine region. 

From Ragatz we took train en route for Schaffhausen, via 
Sargans and Wallenstadt, passing the beautiful Serenbach 
Waterfall, and along the shore of the Lake of Wallenstadt, or 
Wallenstadt See, — as they call it here, — and which we had 
flitting and momentary glances of, through the openings at 
the sides of the nine tunnels which the railroad train thun- 
dered through. But the landscape views all along this portion 
of the route of lake, mountains, waterfalls, valleys, and villages, 
formed one continuous charming picture. 

Our hotel, — the Schweizerhof, — at the Falls of Schaff- 
hausen, is admirably situated for a view of these falls, which, 
however, will disappoint the American who has seen Niagara, 
and hears it stated (which I think is incorrect) that these are 
the finest falls in Europe. The actual fall of water is not 
above sixty feet, and appears at first to be even less than 
this, and it looks more like a series of huge rapids than a 
waterfall ; indeed, reminding one of the rapids above Niagara, 
though the descent is, of course, more abrupt. Right in the 
centre of the falls, dividing them into three parts, are two 
small but high islands of crag, accessible only by boats, and 
gaid to be very safely and easily reached by the boatmen in 
attendance at the shore, who were ready to take us to the 
middle island and to the old chateau on the opposite side, 
which is the best point of view, for the usual fee. 

We entered the boat, which was soon in the midst of the 
stream, and began a series of regular approaches to the rock, 
propelled by the muscular arms of the boatmen ; but in the 



AMONG THE BAPIDS. 455 

midst of these boiling surges, lashing about us in every direc- 
tion, and spattering us with their angry spray, as the rowers 
took advantage of certain eddies and currents, the appearance 
of the surroundings was decidedly dangerous, and it was 
with a long-drawn breath of relief that we heard the keel of 
the boat grate on the pebbles at the little landing at the foot 
of the central island. This was a tall mass of rock, and we 
climbed from point to point, by n not very difficult ascent, till 
we reached the summit, some fifty feet above the boiling 
flood — a very favorable point of view, from whence the 
clouds of silvery spi'ay and the war of waters could be seen, 
and also a very fine view of the rapids and river above, which 
is about three hundred and fifty feet wide at this point. One 
of these rocks has a complete natural arch, ten or fifteen feet 
high, worn through it by the furious Avaters which leap, lash, 
and tumble about at the base of our rocky citadel. 

Descending, we took to the boat again, and started for 
the opposite landing. Taking advantage of the current, the 
boatmen pushed out into the swiftest part of it, and were 
swept with frightful velocity, in half a dozen seconds of 
time, over a space which, to accomplish on our approach, 
required nearly fifteen minutes. A few dexterous whirls, 
some steady pulling, and we were landed at the foot of the 
ascent to the Castle of Laufen, picturesquely situated on a 
wooded height above us, and a fine point of view. We 
ascended the path, and enjoyed the prospect from the bal- 
cony of the castle, and then looked at it through the stained 
glass windows of a summer-house on the grounds, and finally 
descended to a wooden gallery which is built out directly 
over the foaming abyss, and so near the rushing water thai 
you may plunge your hand into the seething mass of waves. 
India-rubber overcoats are a necessity for this excursion, 
which are provided by the owners of the place, and included 
in the fee of admission. 

The sensation of being in the midst of a great waterfall, 
and y r et safe, is about as correct a one, I should judge, as can 
oe had, when you stand at the end of this protecting gallery 



456 DANGEKOUS PASSAGE. 

in the shower of spray, the great body of water rushing 
towards the point as if to overwhelm you, while you now 
and then receive a liberal dash of a huge wave, and the thun- 
der of the waters and rush of the torrent drown all other 
sounds, and render conversation impracticable. We enjoyed 
this defying of the torrent, the foam, rush and war of the 
waters, and the brilliant little rainbows which the sunlight 
formed in the clouds of spray, and then descended to the 
landing, to be rowed back to the opposite shore. 

Tins boat-passage to the central rock is said to be perfectly 
safe, but it certainly has not that appearance, and it is one 
that a person at all inclined to be timid would not care to 
repeat. It has just that hint of the dangerous which gives 
the excursion a zest which a little peril seldom fails to pro- 
duce. Timid though you may be, you cannot help feeling 
exhilarated by the roaring of the waters and the quick dash 
of the spray all around you; and the exultant emotion which 
you experience when you jump on shore, and witness, from a 
safe stand-point, the "perils you have passed," fully compen- 
sates for the moment of suspense, when it seemed as though 
one misstroke of the boatmen would have dashed you into 
eternity. 

We left Schaffhausen at nine A. M. for Munich, had two 
hours and a half on Lake Constance, passed Augsburg, and 
at half past nine reached Munich. 

"Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, 
And charge with all thy chivalry " — 

Munich, with its magnificent art collections, its picture and 
sculpture galleries, its thousand artists ; Munich, with its 
bronze statues, the home of Schwanthaler, the city of broad 
streets, the capital of Bavaria, and the city that makes the 
best beer in all Europe. 

The great hotel, "The Four Seasons," was filled with 
guests, but good rooms were obtained at the Baierischer Hof, 
on the Promenaden Platz ; and our comfortable quarters were 
welcome indeed, after eleven hours' rapid journeying. The 



MUNICH. 457 

:ast portuu of the way approaching Munich was dull enough, 
as it was over a broad, flat plain, with scarcely any trees, and 
the signs of life were confined to an occasional lonely shep- 
herd, with his dog, guarding a flock. In fact, Munich is 
built in the middle of a great plain, which is flat and unin- 
teresting, and (he city itself is not considered healthy for 
Americans or English to reside in any length of time. It is, 
however, one of the European cities that have grown in size 
very rapidly the last thirty years, and the newer parts, built 
out into the plain, away from the old city, waiting for the gap 
between to fill up, remind the American traveller of cities in 
his native land. 

The first sights of all others in Munich to which the tour- 
ist turns his attention, are the art collections. The Glypto- 
thek is the gallery of sculpture, and the Pinacothek the pic- 
ture gallery ; and the admission to these superb and priceless 
collections is free to all. The buildings stand opposite to 
each other ; and, as we find how much this city owes to old 
King Louis for its position as a seat of the fine arts ; how 
many beautiful buildings, statues, galleries, public edifices, 
and streets, were built by his order; and, still further, that 
the expenses of the Glyptothek and other collections were 
paid for from his own privy purse, — we feel inclined to look 
with a lenient eye upon the old monarch's regard for pretty 
women, and the Lola Montez scandal. 

The Pinacothek is a magnificent building, shaped like the 
letter I, and is divided off into nine splendid halls, devoted 
to different schools of art. Ojoening off or out of these halls 
are twenty-three smaller rooms, or cabinets, for the smaller 
pictures of each school. Thus there are three great halls 
devoted to the Italian school of art, two to the Dutch school, 
two to the German, one to the French and Spanish, and a 
great central hall to Rubens. In these great halls the larger 
pictures are hung, and the fight, which comes from the roof 
is well and artistically managed for displaying their beauties. 
In the cabinets are the ordinary sized and smaller paintings. 
But what a wealth of art There are nearly fifteen hundred 



458 THE OLD MASTEE8 

elegant paintings, hundreds of them by some of the most 
celebrated artists that ever lived, and nearly all of them 
works that you want time to study and admire. 

The American who has been shown an occasional old dingy 
head or blackened landscape, half obliterated by age, in his 
own country, and told it is a rare treasure, — one of the old 
masters, — and who, as many do, comes to the conclusion 
that the old masters did not put what he should call finish 
into then' works, will have all impressions of that nature 
removed by his visit to this priceless collection. Here he 
will see pictures that startle even the casual observer by 
their wondrous faithfulness to nature ; pictures upon which 
the hand of the artist is visible in the minutest detail, the 
coloring and finish of which betray the most laborious appli- 
cation, and which excite from him who may have been silent 
over expressions of admiration at pictures at home which 
were not his ideals of excellence, — silent, perhaps, from fear- 
ing that he might be incorrect in judgment, — the honest as- 
sertion, that here is his ideal of the artistic, and convince him 
that a picture cleanly finished in all its details, fresh in color, 
sharp, distinct, and well defined, can be artistic; and that 
even the best of the old masters, if their works can be taken 
as an indication, thought so, too. 

There is a good deal of humbug in the popular admiration 
of muddy, indistinct old daubs, half defaced by age ; and the 
visitor here, in inspecting some of these wondrous creations, 
where the artist, in groups of angels and cherubs, puts ex- 
quisite features to faces the size of one's thumb nail, and 
grace into those ten times that size in the same work, ascer- 
tains that a picture, to be really beautiful, must be completely 
and artistically finished. 

It would be useless, in these limits, to attempt a detailed 
description of this workl-renowned collection, to which two 
or three visits are but an aggravation to the lover of art. 
Tourists generally "do" it in one hasty visit, like many other 
sights, simply to say they ha\e been there. 

My note-book and catalogues are crammed with sentences 



GBEAT PAINTEES' MASTEEP1ECES. 459 

of admiration and marginal notes; but a few extracts will 
give the reader who has not been abroad an idea of the in- 
terest of this gallery. First, there were two great halls and 
six or eight ante-rooms devoted to the German school of art. 
Here we saw numerous pictures by Albert Diirer — a Knight 
in Armor, St. Peter and St. John, the Birth of Christ, &c. ; a 
number by Holbein, the elder and younger; Wohlgemuth, 
some strikingly effective pictures from the life of Christ; 
Quentin Malsys' well-knoAvn picture of the Misers ; Ma- 
beuse's noble picture of the archangel Michael; Dietrich's 
splendid sea scenes ; Van Eyck's Adoration of the Magi, An 
nunciation, and Presentation in the Temple — pictures of won- 
derful execution, the faces finished exquisitely, and the minu- 
test details executed in a manner to command admiration ; 
Albert Diirer's Mater Dolorosa ; the head of an old woman 
and man, the most wonderful pictures of the kind I ever saw, 
painted by Balthasar Denner, and every wrinkle, hair, speck, 
pore of the skin, depicted with such wonderful and micro- 
scopic exactness as to render it an impossibility to tell it from 
a living person at three feet distance. 

The third and fifth halls are filled with paintings of the 
Dutch school by the pupils of Rubens and other artists, and 
the nine cabinets, or smaller halls opening out of them, with 
pictures by various Flemish and Dutch masters. Here were 
Teniers' elegantly finished and admirable pictures of Boors 
Smoking, Boors at Cards ; Ostade's Boors Quarrelling and 
Boors Merry-making; Gerard Dow's Mountebank at the 
Fair, Wouvermans' Stag Hunt, Vandyke's Susanna and the 
Elders, Rembrandt's magnificent Descent from the Cross, 
&c, besides many other Rembrandts, Teniers, Ostades, and 
Van der Werf s, any one of which was a study, a plethora, a 
wilderness of beauty. 

The fourth apartment, or central hall, is devoted entirely 
to the works of Rubens, and contains nearly a hundred of the 
great master's pictures There was his Christ on the Cross, 
a most terribly real picture, that made one almost shudder tG 
look upon ; the Fall of the Angels, a remarkable and won 



460 GALLERIES OP PAINTINGS. 

drous work of art; the Massacre of the Innocents, the 
Sabine Women, the Last Judgment, Triumph of Religion, 
Rubens and his Wife in a Garden, the Lion Hunt, &c. 
But just think of one room in a gallery with a hundred of 
Rubens's best works surrounding you; it is useless to at- 
tempt description. The ante-room, containing the best pic- 
tures, to my mind, was that filled with Van der Werfs 
paintings, which were marvellously clear and sharp in their 
execution, and finished with exquisite skill. Here were 
the Magdalen in a Grotto, Rest on the Flight into Egypt, 
Ecce Homo — all pictures of superb coloring never seen 
in any modern work of art ; Abraham sending forth Hagar 
and Ishmael; portrait of the wife of the Elector John Wil- 
liam ; these two paintings were finished equal to engravings. 
In Jesus disputing with the Doctors in the Temple, the 
faces of the disputants are wondrous studies, exhibiting vari- 
ous emotions, and the figure of Christ, a beautiful boy, has 
the look of Heaven in every lineament of his face. Many 
other perfectly finished pictures that hold one entranced with 
their wondrous beauty are in this room. 

Now we come to the sixth hall, containing the Spanish and 
French schools ; and here are those pictures of Murillo's with 
which we are all so familiar from engravings, viz., the Beg- 
gar Boys eating Melons and Grapes, Boys playing Dice, 
Beggar Boys, &c. ; Nicolas Poussn/s pictures, &c. 

The seventh and eighth great halls contain other paintings 
of the same schools of art ; among them Carlo Dolce, Tinto- 
retto, Domenichino, and Correggio. So also does the ninth 
apartment, formerly the private cabinet of the king, in which 
there are beautiful works from the pencil of Leonardo da 
Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Giorgione, and Raphael. We come 
from this gallery of art literally surfeited, fatigued with long 
gazing, walking, pausing, looking, wondering, and admiring, 
and realize over again what an exhausting work is continuous 
sight-seeing. 

Besides the art collections which have already been de- 
scribed, we visited the new Pinacothek, containing ten halls 



GRECIAN SCULPTURE RESTORED. 461 

and fourteen cabinets for the exhibition of modern paintings, 
among which we saw Kaulbach's Destruction of Jerusalem, a 
magnificent picture, familiar from the print that has been made 
of it; Wilkie's capital painting of the Reading of the Will; 
the Deluge, by Charles Schorn, a Dusseldorf artist ; Peasant's 
Wedding, an excellent picture by Maurice Muller; Fred- 
eric Bischof's First Snow; Battle of Custozza, by Adam; 
Two Boys buying their first Cigars, by H. Rhomberg, a 
Munich artist, &c. There were nearly three hundred pic- 
tures in this collection, which was first opened to the public 
in 1853. 

The Glyptothek, or Hall of Scilpture, is another priceless 
collection of art. The exterior is handsomely adorned with 
statues, and the interior, which consists of twelve halls, and 
each de yoted to dhTerent branches of art, is admirably planned 
and appropriately decorated. 

In the hall known as the iEginetan, which is devoted to 
marbles discovered in the Island of ^Egina, we saw a splendid 
group of marble figures, fourteen in number, which have been 
set up exactly in the position they formerly occupied on the 
Grecian temple they adorned, being carefully put together, 
and such parts as were broken carefully restored by Thor- 
waldsen, giving one some idea of the beauty of the sculpture 
of the ancient Greeks, and showing the actual figures in all 
their spirited grace and action, which has never been excelled 
by modem sculptors. 

There were Hercules and Telamon fighting the Trojans 
and the struggle of the Greeks and Trojans over the body of 
Patroclus, as described by Homer, the warriors with helmet, 
shield, and javelin, in the most spirited attitudes — specimens 
of the wondrous skill of the ancient sculptors, and the reality 
of those outline engravings, by Flaxman and others, of stat- 
ues and sculpture, which adorn the illustrated books of Greek 
<tnd Roman history. In the Hall of Apollo, among many 
other fine works, were a superb Bacchus, found at Athens, 
with a crown of vine leaves most exquisitely cut, a beautiful 
Ceres., and a grand and majestic statue of Minerva. 



462 A BRONZE GIANT. 

The Hall of Bacchus, however, contains the gem of the 
whole collection, and, in fact, the most wonderful and life-like 
statue I ever looked upon — the celebrated Barberini Faun, 
a colossal figure of a Satyr, half sitting, half reclining, as if in 
a deep sleep after a carouse. The attitude is so perfect, the 
appearance of relaxation of the muscles and limbs so thor- 
oughly true to nature, and the very atmosphere of complete 
languor and repose so pervades the countenance and whole 
body of the figure, that the spectator almost forgets it is but 
senseless stone before him in half expectancy of the breast 
heaving to the breathings of the sleeper, which seems all that 
is lacking to make it a living reality ; and yet this wondrous 
work is from an unknown hand. The catalogues and guide- 
books claim it is from the chisel of Praxiteles ; but that is only 
oUirnise. On account of its excellence they doubtless think it 
ought to be ; but it was dug out of the ditch of the Castle of 
St. Angelo, where it was supposed to have been hurled from 
the walls in the year 537. In this hall is also a magnificently 
executed figure of Silenus, Bacchus and Panther. 

In the Hall of Heroes are some splendid figures; Jason 
binding on his Sandal ; Nero as a gladiator, a fine head, with 
the brow and curls of a Hercules ; the Victorious Gladiator, 
Alexander the Great, &c. In the hall of modern sculpture 
were Canova's beautiful figures of Paris and Venus ; Adonis, 
by Thorwaldsen; Love and the Muse, by Eberhardt; and 
others, giving the visitoi an opportunity of comparing ancient 
with modern art. 

The great bronze statue of Bavaria, just outside the city, is 
a huge figure of sixty feet in height, standing upon a pedestal 
thirty feet high. It represents a female with a sword in her 
right hand, while the left raises on high the wreath of victory. 
At her side sits the Hon of Bavaria. By the staircase inside 
we ascended to the head of the bronze giant, which we found 
would comfortably accommodate eight or nine persons ; and 
from a window in its curling locks we had a fine view of 
Munich and the surrounding country. This great statue was 
modelled by Schwanthaler, and cast by F. Miller at the royal 



HALL OF THE COLOSSI. 468 

foundery of Munich, where so many bronze figures for this 
country have been cast ; and having for that reason a desire 
to see it, we drove thither. On sending our cards in, with a 
message that we were a party of Americans, we were im- 
mediately waited upon by the superintendent, who, with the 
greatest courtesy, showed us over the entire establishment, 
where were bronze giants in every process of manufacture, 
from the mass of liquid metal to the shapely figure under the 
artistic files of the finishers. 

We were shown here the Hall of the Colossi, in which were 
the plaster models of all the works that have been executed 
at the foundery. Here, among others, we saw the cast of the 
statue of Henry Clay, made for New Orleans, those of Bee- 
thoven for Boston Music Hall, and Horace Mann for Boston 
State House grounds,. Colonel Benton for St. Louis, and the 
figures of Jefferson, Mason, Henry, Nelson, Lewis, and Mar- 
shall, which adorn the Washington Monument at Richmond, 
Va. ; also the model of the triumphal car, drawn by lions, 
which adorns the arch at one end of the fine street (Lud- 
wigstrasse) named after King Louis. The lions were giants 
ten feet high, and a cast of the hand of the great figure of 
Bavaria was six or seven feet long and two feet thick, sug- 
gesting that a box on the ear from such a palm would un- 
doubtedly be a " stunner." From here we naturally went to 
the studio of the great sculptor Schwanthaler, where we were 
courteously received by his son, and were interested in the 
processes of sculpture, which we saw in all its phases under 
the workmen's hands. 

Many of the streets of Munich are broad and beautiful, and 
the squares adorned with statues. A bronze obelisk in the 
Karolinenplatz, nearly a hundred feet high, formed from 
captured cannon, is erected in memory of the Bavarians who 
fell in the army of Bonaparte during the Russian campaign ; 
and statues of King Louis and Schiller are in the Odeon 
Platz ; while in another square is another statue, formed from 
captured cannon, of Maximilian I., surrounded by four other 
statues of distinguished Bavarians. 



464 THE PALACE. 

T ne new palace which we visited was rich in elegant pit 
cares, beautiful frescoes, and works of art. In one series of 
rooms were great paintings illustrating the history of Bavaria. 
Some of the rooms containing them bore the names of Hall 
of Marriage, Hall of Treachery, Hall of Revenge, &c, the 
scenes in these apartments being those historical events in 
which these characteristics were prominent. Schwanthalc-r 
and Kaulbach's pencils have contributed liberally to the dec- 
oration of many of the rooms, particularly the Throne Room, 
which contains the illustrations of a German poem, painted 
by Kaulbach, and another room with thirty or forty illustra- 
tions of Goethe's works, by the same artist. 

The Hall of Frederick Barbarossa contains fine large paint- 
ings of scenes in his life, including his battle and victory in 
the third crusade. Then we have the Hall of Charlemagne, 
with great pictures of his battle scenes, and the Hall of Beau- 
ties, which contains a series of portraits of beautiful women 
of Bavaria, painted by order of the late king, without regard 
to rank or station ; so that here the peasant girl jostles the 
banker's daughter, and the duchess finds herself face to face 
with the child of a cobbler — the stamp of beauty being the 
signet that admitted each to this collection, which, in truth, 
does honor to the king's judgment. 

The great Throne Room is a magnificent apartment, one 
hundred and eight feet long and seventy-five wide. At the 
upper end of the throne, and on either side between the tall 
marble Corinthian pillars with gold capitals, stand twelve 
colossal statues in gilt bronze. The statues, which are ten 
feet high, were designed by Schwanthaler, and represent the 
different princes of the house of Bavaria, beginning with 
Otho, 1253, and ending with Charles XII., 1 7 98. The figures 
are very finely executed, and in the costumes and weapons 
show the progress of civilization. This room is, in truth, a 
royal one, and is as fit to hold a royal reception in as one 
could wish. In fact, as we look round through Munich, capi 
tal of the little kingdom of Bavaria, with its less than five 
million souls, we get the impression that it has art, wealth. 



BASILICA OF ST. BONIFACE. 46& 

galleries, libraries, &c, enough for the capital of an empire of 
five times its size. 

Munich makes beer that is celebrated for its quality, and 
the quantity drank here is something fabulous. I am confi- 
dent it is a necessity at all the gardens where the musical 
performances are given ; and apropos, the superb music which 
one may listen to here for a mere trifle is astonishing. I vis- 
ited one of these gardens, where Gung'l's band of about forty 
performers played a splendid programme — twelve composi- 
tions of Strauss, Wagner, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and 
Gung'l. But those Strauss and Gung'l waltzes and galops — 
they were given with a precision and spirit that were posi- 
tively electrical. One could almost hear the dancers' feet slip 
to the luxurious murmuring of the waltz, or catch the gusts 
of air that whirled from the rush of the rattling galop. Ad- 
mission to this concert was eight cents, and order what you 
choose — a glass of beer for four or five cents, or a bottle of 
wine at from twenty cents to two dollars. 

One of the monuments which old King Louis, or Ludwig, 
as they call him here, leaves behind him is the Basilica of St. 
Boniface, built to commemorate the twenty-fifth anniversary 
of the king's marriage — the finest church in Munich, and 
built in imitation of a Roman basilica of the sixth century. 
The interior presents a superb sight, the roof being supported 
by sixty-four splendid columns of gray marble, making a nave 
and four aisles. The view through the length of these aisles, 
amid the forest of pillars for a distance of two hundred and 
eighty-five feet, and up to the roof, which is eighty feet from 
the pavement, and represents the firmament studded with 
golden stars, is inexpressibly beautiful. The magnificent 
frescoes on the walls, perfections in the art, by Henry Hess 
and his students, and the splendid pictures illustrating the 
progress of Christianity in Germany, and scenes in the life of 
St. Boniface, heighten the effect. The church was finished in 
1850, and has all the beauty and freshness of modern work- 
manship upon an ancient model. It is certainly one of the 
most elegant and artistical of ecclesiastical interiors. The 
30 



466 SALZBURG. 

sarcophagus of King Louis and of his queen, Thcrese, is in 
this church, and beneath it a crypt for the interment of 1he 
Benedictine monks, who are in some way or other attached 
to the church. 

In the great cathedral — a huge brick building three hun- 
dred and twenty feet in length, with its windows sixty-seven 
feet high, filled with the rich stained glass of the fifteenth 
century — we saw the monument of the Emperor Louis, 
erected in 1622, upheld upon the shoulders of four stalwait 
knights, armed cap-a-pie, in bronze, the size of life. 

The public library of Munich is another storehouse of treas- 
ures. It is a huge three-story building, with a superb stair- 
case and magnificent architectural interior, and contains eight 
hundred and fifty thousand books, and twenty-two thousand 
manuscripts, besides coins and literary curiosities of priceless 
value, such as block-books, printed anterior to 1500, manu- 
scripts of the New Testament, in the seventh and eighth cen- 
turies, the code of laws given by Alaric to the West Goths in 
506, Luther's Bible, containing his own and Melanchthon's 
portraits, and other rarities of like interest. This library is 
the second largest in existence, being exceeded in extent only 
by that of Paris. 

But the reader will tire of Munich and its art treasures, if 
we do not ; so we will bid them a reluctant adieu, and take 
train for Salzburg. This was an eight hours' ride, and of no 
particular note, except that at every crossing on the railroad, 
md at intervals on the line, we saw switch-tenders, or station- 
masters, who were in the red uniform of the railroad com- 
pany, and stood upright in military position, with hand raised 
to the cap in salute, as the train whizzed past them. Arrived at 
Salzburg, we went to the fine Hotel de 1'Europe, where, among 
other excellences of the Austrian cuisine, we had Austrian 
bread, the best in the world, such as, once tasted, makes the 
eater ever long for it, and establish it in his mind as the 
standard by which the quality of all others is regulated. 

The city is on the River Salza, and in quite a picturesque 
situation, at the foot of the great Alpine heights, with a semi 



AQUAEIAL W0NDEBS. 4C7 

circle of mountains about it. The plain, or valley, about the 
city is rich .in beautiful gardens, orchards, groves, and country 
houses, the dark-wooded heights and slopes of the mountains 
forming the framework of the picture, and in the centre Salz- 
burg Castle perched upon its high rock, reminding one very 
much, from its appearance and position, of Edinburgh Castle. 

We have driven round the dull old town, seen the house 
where Mozart was born, and his statue by Schwanthaler in 
one of the squares, and bought elegantly-painted china covers 
foi the tops of beer mugs — drinkers at the bier halles hav- 
ing their special mugs, and recognizing them by the design 
upon the cover. Some of the beer flagons and tankards ex- 
posed for sale here were very beautiful and elaborate, and got 
up with much artistic taste. 

One of the most delightful rides we ever took was over the 
romantic road from Salzburg out to the Chateau of Hellbrunn, 
for the whole distance of nearly three miles! was one continu- 
ous arch of splendid elms, shading the broad, smooth, level 
road. The view of the town, and the old castle in the centre, 
with the background of grand Alpine walls, which we had 
constantly before us, and from many different points of ob- 
servation, was very picturesque and beautiful. 

The gardens of the chateau are celebrated for containing 
the most wonderful and curious of water-works. The grounds 
are beautifully laid out, and at every turn we met new sur- 
prises. There was, of course, every variety of ordinary foun- 
tain, dolphins and nymphs spouting, &c, and besides these 
many curious contrivances for the fluid. There were two 
beautiful pictures painted on copper, before which was appar- 
ently a sheet of glass ; but it was only a broad, thin, falling, 
transparent, aqueous curtain. A beautiful bouquet of flowers 
was enclosed in a complete hemisphere of falling water, as 
pure and unbroken as a glass globe, with scarcely a percepti- 
ble motion in its swift current. Two turtles, directly opposite 
each other, five feet apart, seemed to hold a glass cord, the 
size of a man's finger between them, in their mouths. Touch- 
ing "Jie transparent cord with a cane, we interrupted a swifl 



468 INGENIOUS MECHANISM. 

stream, and the liquid spattered in every direction. The cane 
was withdrawn, the stream immediately reunited, and the 
turtles again held their apparently motionless crystal cord as 
before. We came to automaton old men grinding their 
scythes at a grindstone, millers at work at their mill, all run- 
ning by water power; entered a wondrous grotto, where 
Neptune in his car drawn by sea-horses swam around, the 
horses and dolphins spouting liquid streams from their mouths, 
Tnd birds piping their liquid notes from the wall, all mo^ed by 
>vater power. 

In another beautiful grotto a whirling fountain lifted a 
handsome golden crown eight feet into the air, and kept it 
suspended amid a shower of sparkling drops. Taking a posi- 
tion at the rear of a dark cavern, and looking out towards the 
little arched entrance, the water was let on in fine mist, and 
the arched doorway was as rich as the gates of Paradise in 
wreathed rainbows. Two huge stags guarded another cav- 
ern, streams issuing from their mouths and every point of 
their huge antlers. Hunters were on galloping steeds, and 
blew torrents from their horns, or were enveloped in the 
floods that spouted from their spear-heads. Luxurious seats 
invited the tired pedestrian to repose, when, on seating him- 
self, he was ringed in with a circle of miniature water-spouts, 
rendering dry egress apparently impossible. Finally we came 
to a place where two huge doors were thrown open, display- 
ing a space about twelve feet high and eight or ten wide, in 
which was the complete representation in miniature of the 
square in a city. 

There were cathedral, palace, dwelling-house, and artisans' 
shops, all faithfully represented ; and in the streets, the shops 
and the houses which were open to view, were over one 
hundred automaton figures of men, women, and children, all 
moved by water power, and giving life to the scene before 
you. There were masons hoisting stone and building a house, 
coopers and tinkers clattering away in their shops, butchers 
killing and cutting up, cobblers pegging away in their little 
stalls, wood-sawyers, blacksmiths beating with a regular clink 



A. VIEW OF L1LLIPUT. 469 

clnnk-cliiik upon their anvils, artisans in their shops; also all 
the usual street scenes of a city. Here was a man with a 
dancing bear, surrounded by a curious crowd ; there a shrew- 
ish old woman shaking her head, gesticulating, and scolding 
at her tipsy husband ; children playing in the street ; ladies, 
looking from windows of houses, returned the courtly salutes 
of gallants who passed by in the streets with graceful bow or 
wave of the hand ; loaded teams passed by ; peo] le went in 
and out of houses; Turks, priests, Jews, and courtiers passed 
along in the most natural manner, and finally came a whole 
regiment of soldiers, marching across the square ; at last, the 
notes of the organ were heard in the cathedral, and into its 
broad portal filed priests and people, and the scene closed. 
The size of these automatons was from six to eight inches ; 
they were very well executed ; and the whole scene, with the 
cathedral, square, streets, and throng of moving figures, seemed 
a sort of realization of Gulliver's experiences in Lilliput. This 
place is the property of the king, and no fee is charged foi 
viewing it and its many wonders ; nevertheless, the custodian, 
who had so kindly and faithfully exhibited them to our party, 
was extremely gratified at the magnificent fee of thirty cents, 
and took leave of us with a profusion of bows and polite 
expressions. 

Our visit to the old castle was also an interesting one. 
From its battlements we looked directly down upon the town, 
and, afar off, on a beautiful landscape of fields, winding river, 
and distant mountain. Within the walls we saw the grand 
apartments of the old bishops, and the remains of the torture 
chamber, fragments of the rack, and other hellish inventions 
of cruel ingenuity which they used to apply to their victims. 

Following the advice of a fiiend, we telegraphed on in 
advance to the Hotel Archduke Charles, at Vienna, that we 
were coming, and to secure rooms. An eight hours' ride by 
rail brought us to the capital of the Austrian dominions, and 
I had scarce stepped from the railway carriage ere a well- 
dressed, gentlemanly-looking individual, in dress coat, dark 
pants and Aest, gloves, spotless shirt-front, and immaculate 



470 JUDGING BY APPEARANCES. 

neck-tie, called me by name, and in perfectly correct English 
inquired if the luggage of the party was upon the train, 
and was to be taken to the hotel. I looked at him inquiringly, 
and assented. 

" I am attached to the hotel, sir, and have received your 
despatch (exhibiting it). If you will please to step into this 
carriage we have in waiting for you, after pointing out your 
trunks, I will follow you with them." 

We were amazed, and began to wonder whether or not the 
fellow might not be a clever English impostor, who had 
obtained our telegraphic despatch with a view of getting our 
luggage into his hands, and running away with it. Our 
doubts were, however, soon settled by a young Prussian lady 
of the party, who conversed with him in his native tongue, 
and found that he was a sort of chief clerk, or managing man, 
for the proprietors of the hotel, and was equally at home in 
the German, French, or English languages. We therefore 
committed our impedimenta to his charge, were escorted by 
him to the carriage, when, as he helped us in, tumbled and 
travel-stained as we were, and passed in the travelling- 
pouches and shawls, and stood in his spotless linen and 
polished boots, raising his French hat, as if he had just 
stepped from a ball-room or the opera, — I could not help 
feeling a little awkward at presuming to permit so gentle- 
manly-appearing a personage to perform a menial act; but 
our reflections were cut short by his rapid directions to the 
driver in his own tongue. The coach-door was clapped to, 
and we were soon whirling through the brilliantly-lighted 
streets on our way to the hotel. 

Vienna appears to be a city that is having immense ad- 
ditions made to it ; in fact, to have recently taken a fresh 
start in new and spacious squares, wide streets, and new 
buildings. The different portions of it are known as the old 
and new cities. The new city streets are open, wide, and 
airy, with broad and handsome sidewalks ; the streets of the 
old are narrow and crooked, with no sidewalk or curbstone. 
Our hold — the Archduke Charles — is situated on a street 



VIENNA. 471 

scarcely wide enough for two vehicles to pass, and the noise 
(ibr it is always crowded) that comes up between the tall 
buildings is almost unbearable in warm weather, when open 
casements are a necessity. Talk of the crooked streets of 
Boston ! Why, some of the corkscrew passages of the old 
city of Vienna will wind up an expert Bostonian into a mosl 
inexplicable tangle. 

The large, new streets, however, will, in time, rival .th< 
Boulevards in beauty and attractiveness. Great blocks ot 
buildings are built on the Parisian model, elegant restaurants 
and stores, with plate glass windows, rich displays of goods, 
and a profusion of gas-jets, give quite a Paris air to the scene ; 
in fact, the improvements in the way of new buildings and ne"W 
streets, not only here but in Munich and other cities, seem to 
be after the Paiis, or Haussman model. The tourist can 
hardly help thinking that Louis Napoleon made his influence 
to be felt in more ways than one, and has taught the mon- 
archs of some of these sleepy old empires a good lesson in 
widening, enlarging, and beautifying their capitals, making 
them attractive to visit and pleasant to live in, and to realize 
that it is money in their purses, or those of their subjects, 
— which is much the same, — to render their cities inviting to 
the host's of travellers who traverse the continent, and to in- 
duce them to remain and spend money, or come again and 
spend more. 

To bona fide tourists there are now very few restrictions. 
Custom-house examinations are a mere form ; passports, 
except in the intolerant Roman States, are never called for, 
and admissions to galleries, palaces, or collections, which 
require tickets from government officials, are granted to 
foreigners without restraint. One of our first sight-seeing 
excursions took us to the Imperial Library — a magnificent 
collection of books and manuscripts, commenced in the 
thirteenth century, and which now contains nearly three hun- 
dred thousand books, and over sixteen thousand manuscripts, 
including many rare literary curiosities, among which we saw 
Charlemagne's psalm book; a roll of hieroglyphics on skin. 



472 ROYAL REGALIA. 

sent by Cortes froni Mexico to the King of Spain; Tasso's 
own manuscript of Jerusalem Delivered ; the Latin Bible of 
1462, on parchment; elegant illuminated manuscripts and 
parchment volumes, whose exquisite penmanship and still 
brilliant colors make it hard to believe that the hands that 
laboriously fashioned them, in shady cloister and convent 
cell, bave crumbled into undistinguishable dust hundreds of 
years ago. 

One of the most magnificent collections of royal jewelry we 
have ever looked upon we saw at the Imperial Treasury, or 
Jewel House. Here were necklaces of diamonds as big as 
filberts, and of a brilliancy that others pale before ; a bow-knot 
as large as a half sheet of commercial note-paper, that blazed 
like fire with clear, pure diamonds ; great crowns ; conquer- 
ors' wreaths in emeralds and diamonds; royal orders and 
decorations ; magnificent chains and collars belonging to the 
dresses of various orders worn by the emperor. But it was 
not only the sparkling collection of gems of purest ray serene 
that attracted our attention — the curious historic relics that 
are preserved here are of great value and interest. Think of 
standing and looking upon the coronation robe, crown, and 
sceptre of the stout old Charlemagne himself; the great dia- 
mond worn by Charles the Bold ; the robes and crown- worn by 
Napoleon at his coronation at Milan-; an elegant crucifix, with 
the wondrous carving and chasing of that renowned artificer, 
Benvenuto Cellini ; a collection of curious watches of oldei) 
times, the " Nuremburg eggs " that we have so often read of. 
Besides the huge falchion of Charlemagne, we were shown 
the sword of Maximilian I., that of Francis I. of France, the 
scimeter that was once wielded by Tamerlane, and the cele- 
brated iron crown of Lombardy. 

I cannot begin to enumerate the stories of relics connected 
with the history of Austria ; the wealth of cut and uncut 
jewels which we were hurried through by the thick-headed, 
stupid guide, who recited a description he had learned by 
rote in the most monotonous manner ; who was utterly una/ 
b'e to answer the simplest quesion, and only went rVom one 



CABINET OP MINERALS. 473 

object to anotnei , that was in his programme of performance, 
commencing with his everlasting "Dies is der" and going on 
with a monotonous enumeration of facts, running his words 
and sentences together, like a state official repeating a for- 
mula. I ought not to omit mentioning that they have several 
sacred relics here, some of which cannot fail to excite a smile, 
and others such as tourists always expect to find in every 
collection. Among the first is what is said to be part of the 
table-cloth used at the Last Supper ! The visitor is not ex- 
pected to inquire if table-cloths were used in those days, or he 
might be answered, " Of course they were ; else how came this 
piece here ? " The piece of the true cross is here, of course, 
for no well-regulated collection of relics or cathedral is com- 
plete without it ; while the tooth of St. John the Baptist and 
leg bone of St. Anne may cause some unbelieving Thomases 
to wonder how long these mortuary relics can be kept pi'e- 
served from the crumbling touch of time. 

I had no idea what an intensely curious exhibition a cab- 
inet of minerals could be, till I stood within the great build 
ing containing the collection here, which is in a series of 
apartments in all as long as Quincy Market, in Boston, and 
most admirably arranged and classified. It seemed as if the 
whole world had been ransacked for specimens in every nook 
and corner, from the frozen regions of the poles to the coral 
caves of the tropics ; from the surface to the centre ; and that 
geology might be studied here by illustration, and metallurgy 
and mineralogy thoroughly learned from specimens, so nu- 
merous are they, and so perfectly are the different varieties 
and branches arranged. 

Here are marbles from every part of the world, even 
Greenland ; copper from the slave-worked mines of Siberia, 
and the prolific pits of the Lake Superior country, in frag- 
ments, dust, ingots, and masses ; coal bearing the familiar 
names of our American mines, those of the great English 
pits, and specimens from China, Japan, Bohemia, and New 
Zealand ; gold in ail its curious shapes, as found in rock that 
showed not its glitter, and in the smooth nuggets from Cali 



474 MINEBAL CURIOSITIES. 

form" a and Australia ; the less precious, but not less useful 
iron, from every part of the globe; diamonds from Brazil; 
agates ; malachite from the l T ral Mountains ; crystals from 
the Alps ; amethysts, rubies, and uncut gems, plucked from 
streams or rocky prisons ; silver ore from the mines of Po- 
tosi; solid lead from Great Britain, Spain, and America; 
tin, cinnabar, platina — till it seemed that every known metal, 
ore, rock, mineral, or gem, from every quarter of the woild, 
had its representative specimen in this priceless collection. 

Among the remarkable curiosities of the museum were the 
largest oj)al in the world, - — as large as a man's fist, and 
weighing seventeen ounces, — too big for the breastpin of 
the most ambitious American expressman or negro minstrel ; 
a great rock crystal, as big as a man's leg ; a great bed or 
mass of crystals, four and a half feet in diameter ; elegant 
specimens of uncut gems and diamond crystals ; a large col- 
lection of aerolites, or meteoric stones, which have fallen in 
various parts of the world. Among the most curious of 
these is one mass looking like melted rock, weighing over five 
hundred pounds. Then there are curious fossil remains, bird 
tracks, and ferns, in stone, and various other interesting illus- 
trations of geology. A very costly wonder is a beautiful 
bouquet of flowers, made entirely of precious stones, for the 
Empress Maria Theresa, — the colors of leaves, buds, and 
petals all being preserved by different-colored gems, — a 
sparkling but scentless nosegay. This superb collection is 
one of the wonders of Vienna, and must afford an admirable 
opportunity to students and others engaged in the study of 
mineralogy, &c, numbers of whom we saw in different de- 
partments, as we passed through, making notes and exam 
illations. 

A museum where one having any taste for antiquities may 
positively luxuriate, is the Ambras Museum of ancient arms 
and armor, a real, authenticated historical collection, — armoi 
that had actually been worn and fought in by men whose 
names figure in history hundreds of years ago. How the 
antiquary will thank the old Archduke Ferdinand, who made 



THE AMBKAS MTJ SEUM. 47 

this collection in 1560, expressly for the purpose of interesting 
future ages, and left his own autographic manuscripts (still 
preserved), authenticating them beyond a doubt. 

Three large rooms of six in the museum are devoted to 
the collection of arms and armor. Here were the helmet of 
Francis I., of France, that may have been \>orn in his battle 
with his warlike opponent, the German emperor, Charles V., 
or at his meeting with Henry VIII. on the Field of the Cloth 
of Gold; the complete armor, for man and horse, of the 
Emperor Maximilian; the armor of Charles V.; that of 
Philip II., — armor that he may have ridden in, side by side 
with his English wife, Bloody Mary ; the dinted armor of 
that fierce warrior, Don John of Austria, that may have 
shielded its owner in many a deadly encounter ; a magnifi- 
cent steel suit, fluted with gold, belonging to the Archbishop 
of Salzburg; the handsomely-wrought steel armor of Mau- 
rice, Elector of Saxony; a whole room full of armor suite 
and weapons used at tournaments during the middle ages ; 
the elegant suit of Alexander Famese, of Parma, made in 
1592, of great beauty of workmanship, and which would put 
our artificers of the present day to their best skill to rival. 
Here are the battle-axe of Montezuma, emperor of Mexico ; 
the horse-tail standards captured from the Turks, and elegant 
swords and weapons of Italian warriors, rich in ornament 
and chasing. Of these interesting memorials of ancient 
chivalry, there are nearly one hundred and fifty suits of 
armor, weapons, &c. — historical mementos of the marners 
of the middle ages. 



476 SUPEEB MAUSOLEUM. 



CHAPTER XII. 

On our first Sunday in Vienna we attended service at the 
Church of St. Augustine, the chief features of the service 
being the splendid robes of the priests, and the magnificent 
music — the instrumental portion, in addition to the organ, 
being the full orchestra from the opera-house, led by its 
leader, baton in hand, and giving some of the compositions 
of the great composers in a style that made the lofty arches 
of the old church to seem filled with heavenly melody. In 
this church is Canova's superb monument to the Arch- 
duchess Christiana, a marble pyramid thirty feet high, upon 
a broad marble pedestal, with two wide steps. In the centre 
of this pyramid, designed to represent the tomb, is a door, 
and grouped upon the steps, on their way towards it, are sev- 
eral life-sized allegorical figures, most exquisitely wrought. 
A female figure, in flowing drapery, bearing a flower-wreathed 
urn, with a child walking on either side of her, followed by 
another figure, Benevolence, supporting by the arm Old Age, 
a bent, decrejnt, tottering old man leaning upon a staff, are 
the figures on one side ; while upon the other reposes a lion, 
with an angel seated by his side, and half reclining upon his 
rugged mane. The white, flowing drapery of these figures 
is so beautifully wrought as to fairly rival reality, and the 
figure of Old Age, with tottering limbs, weary face, and 
relaxed muscles, a perfect masterpiece of art. The angel, 
reclining upon the Hon, is a figure of exquisite beauty, while 
the grouping of the whole, and the natural positions of the 
figures, render the composition both apt and beautiful. 

At the Capuchin Church we went down into the vault of 
the imperial family, under the guidance of a sandalled friar, 
torch in hand. Here rest the mortal remains of royalty, in 
seveaty great metallic coffins or sarcophagi, — the oldest that 



THE STRAUSS BaJSD. 477 

of Ferdinand, 1610, and the most splendid being that of 
Joseph I., which has over two thousand pounds of silver 
about it, wrought into armorial bearings, crowns, death's 
heads, wreaths of flowers, and other designs. The rest are 
chiefly wrought from zinc into the forms of mortuary caskets, 
with appropriate designs. 

While the group of visitors were tediously following the 
monotonous description of the friar, I unconsciously seated 
myself upon the end of one of these ornamented chests of 
human ashes, from which, when discovered, I was requested 
to rise by an indignant wave of the hand, and a look upon 
the friar's face that savored strongly of indignation, as he ap- 
proached the spot with the party, and commenced his descrip- 
tion. Then it was I discovered that I had been making my 
seat of the funeral casket of the Duke of Reichstadt, son of 
the great Napoleon ; and near by we saw that of the Emperor 
Francis, his grandfather. 

From this gloomy chamber of dead royalty, we were glad 
ence more to emerge to the busy street and to close the day's 
sight-seeing by a visit to a musical festival given in an im- 
mense garden just outside the city, called, I think, the New 
World Garden. The occasion being the Virgin's birthday, 
there was an extra attraction ; first there was the splendid 
Strauss band, about seventy pieces, led by Strauss himself; 
then two large military bands, and these played alternately, 
and such music ! The Strauss waltzes and dance music were 
^iven with a " voluptuous swell," precision, and beauty that 
tvere enchanting to listen to. They were liquid billows of 
harmony, and as inspiriting to the feet of the dancers as a 
draught of nitrous oxide to the imagination. The volup- 
tuous waltz ceased, the military band would then burst forth 
with grand march or quickstep that would make one's very 
pulses thrill, and when this closed, the other band gave an 
overture or grand musical composition, which concluded, the 
lively dance music of Strauss again burst forth -with its exhil- 
arating strains. 

There were three or four thousand persons present stroll 



478 THE SUMMER PALACE. 

ing through the pleasant walks and shady alleys, or silting 
at the tables near the music pavilions eating ices, drinking 
light wines or beer, chatting, and listening to the music. The 
price of admission to the regular concerts of the Strauss band 
here is about eighteen cents! But to this entertainment, 
which was an extra occasion, or a sort of a fete day, the en- 
ormous fee of nearly thirty cents was demanded ! The excel- 
lence of the music as well as the cheapness of the entertain- 
ment, was marvellous to us Americans. 

It is a pleasant excursion to the Schonbrunn, or summer 
palace, and the gardens connected with it, about three miles 
from Vienna. These gardens on fine Sunday afternoons are 
thronged with people from the city, strolling through their 
shady alleys and beautiful walks. The shrubbery and land- 
scape gardening here are great curiosities; long, straight 
avenues are laid out, with the trees on each side trimmed 
like hedges to the height of thirty or forty feet, presenting a 
perspective of an avenue as smooth and unbroken as if sliced 
out of a solid mass of green, with a keen blade ; then the 
masses of foliage are trimmed into niches for marble statues, 
graceful curves, and columns, and curious walks. The flower- 
gardens of the jjalace were beautiful, and the hot-houses rich 
in great palms and other tropical wonders ; there were quite 
a number, some dozen or more, of these conservatories, each 
devoted to different varieties of plants, a description of which 
would be wearisome. As some of the royal family were at 
the palace we could not visit the interior, but passing through 
the gardens, we ascended to the Gloriette, a sort of open tem- 
ple with a colonnade of pillars, situated upon rising ground, 
and commanding a fine view of Vienna and the surrounding 
country, including the battle-fields of Aspern and Wagram. 

The Imperial Picture Gallery of Vienna is a collection of 
paintings worth a journey over the ocean to see — lich in the 
masterpieces of the old masters, and containing in all about 
two thousand pictures, which are arranged in different apart- 
ments according to the school of art to which they belong. 
Here, again, we were bewildered with a wealth of beauty: 



THE IMPERIAL GALIERT. 479 

here one begins to realize what wonders the painter's brush 
is capable of; what laborious finishers the old masters were ; 
how very little advance, if any at all, has been made in the 
ait; what skill must have been used in the manufacture and 
laying on of colors vliich, after the lapse of two or three hun- 
dred years, are as fresh, bright and effective as if but yester- 
day applied to the canvas. 

It would be like enumeration by catalogue to give the 
list of pictures that we have pencilled notes of admiration 
against; but only think of seeing elegant pictures from the 
pencils of Paul Veronese, Titian, Raphael, Guido, Correggio, 
Murillo, Rembrandt, Cuyp, Poussin, Vandyke, Rubens, Teni- 
ers, Albert Diirer, Van Eyck, Andrea del Sarto, Gerard Dow, 
and Schneyders ! Why, after going through this gallery, 
having seen that at Munich, it seemed as if we had seen the 
originals of half of all the engravings and copies of great 
works that we have ever looked upon ; and as in other gal- 
leries, we found the longest time we could possibly give to 
it allowed us only a glance, comparatively speaking, at its 
treasures. 

There was Titian's Ecce Homo, a masterpiece of artistic 
skill that one wanted hours to study; the Entombment, 
and his beautiful figure of Danae ; Correggio's elegant picture 
of Christ and the Woman of Samaria ; Guido's Holy Family 
— a room entirely filled with the works of that industrious 
artist, Rubens, among which was his Assumption of the Vir- 
gin, Loyola casting out Evil Spirits, and Xavier healing the 
Sick. Teniers also had a room, among which his Peasants' 
Marriage, and Village Fete, were conspicuous; Albert Diirer's 
Martyrdom of Ten Thousand Christians — a wonderful work, 
in which every form of torture and death seemed to have 
been represented ; a student for the torture chamber of the 
Holy Inquisition might have obtained new ideas by studying 
it ; Diirer's magnificent picture of the Holy Trinity, sur- 
rounded by a crowd of saints, cherubs, and angels — a repre- 
sentation in which perfect finish in all the details of features 
and heavenly beauty was marvellously executed ; Paul Ver- 



4 SO VIENNA LEATHER-WORK. 

onese's Holy Family, and two splendid battle-pieces by Sal 
vator Rosa. 

In the modern gallery there were also many wonderfully 
beautiful works of art — a fearfully real picture of the Mas- 
sacre of the Innocents, by Charles Arrienti; a wonderfully 
funny one of Mischief-Makers in an Artist's Studio, by Jo- 
seph Dankauser — a picture that will make one laugh aloud ; 
a fine picture of the Adieu of a soldier of the Austrian 
Landwehr to his wife and children — figures all of life-size, 
painted by Pierre Kraffc ; a sortie of a garrison against Turk- 
ish assailants — a great painting crowded with figures in the 
most spirited action, and all beautifully finished by the same 
artist ; Shnorr's Mephistopheles appearing to Faust — an ele- 
gant and effective composition ; Grand Canal of Venice, by 
Schoefft - - a lovely scene. And so it continued — great battle- 
pieces with life-like warriors, with weapons and mail strik- 
ingly like reality; lovely landscapes that filled one with 
admiration to gaze upon; religious subjects, on which the 
loftiest art and the sublimest conceptions were exhausted , 
wonderful trickery of art in some compositions ; quiet beau <y 
in others, that drew the beholder, again and again, back to 
gaze upon them, till, with aching limbs and fatigued vertebrae, 
we closed our first visit to this glorious collection, with the 
thought of how discouraging is the effort to attempt, in a day 
or two, that over which weeks, and even months, might be 
used with pleasure and intellectual profit. 

Tourists, who are always buying something in every Euro- 
pean capital they visit, find the beautiful fancy goods shops 
and Vienna goods potent attractions. It is in this city that 
all the beautiful leather-work, known as Russia leather, is 
manufactured, its deep-red stain and peculiar perfume as 
fascinating as the many-colored hues and glossy surface of 
fresh kid gloves, or the fragrance of the leaves of a new 
volume, to the purchaser. Travelling satchels of this material, 
which at home are an extravagant luxury, are here obtainable 
at less than half the American price. Then the leather is 
wrought in a hundred fanciful ways : it appears in trunks; 



SHOPS AND PRICES. 481 

portfolios soft, elegant, and portable; pocket-books smooth 
and elastic ; work-boxes, hat-boxes, covered smelling-bottles, 
flasks, and canes ; in watch-chains or portable inkstands, whip- 
is cocks, boots and shoes, elegantly mounted horse harnesses ; 
and, in fact, in about every way it can be used to court the 
<>ye and be of service. 

The meerschaum pipe stores of Vienna must make a 
smoker half crazy with delight; and indeed, to those who do 
not use the weed, their windows are among the most attrac- 
tive upon the great streets, from the ingenuity and skill dis- 
played in the innumerable forms into which pipe bowls are 
ftarved. The most artistic skill and elaborate workmanship 
appear to have been expended upon these pipes, and the 
great pipe stores vie with each other in displaying in their 
windows specimens of delicate carvings and curious designs, 
beautiful amber mouth-pieces, tobacco-boxes, pouches, and 
the smoker's paraphernalia. An American rarely leaves 
Vienna without some of its meerschaums in his baggage. 
Gentlemen's clothing, excellently made to order, can be 
bought here at astonishingly low prices, and the ladies find 
fans, fancy goods, and laces to be not so dear as in Paris. 

The prices at the leading hotels are rather high, but the 
cuisine is unexceptionable, and Vienna bread the best in the 
world. Once eaten, the traveller will establish it as his stan- 
dard of excellence. It is snowy white, without flake, fine- 
grained, has a light, brown, crisp crust, no particle of flavor 
of yeast, gas, or acidity, but a fragrance of purity and sweet- 
ness, and the dyspeptic may devour the delicious, round 
breakfast rolls, almost in any quantity, with impunity. Most 
Americans are astonished to find what a luxurious repast can 
be made from mere bread and butter in Vienna. 

Vienna appears more like London and Paris than other 
European capitals. Its brilliant cafes, shops, and the elegant 
new Boulevards, recently completed, give it quite the air of 
Paris ; and so also do the numerous amusements, out-of-door 
concerts, and musical entertainments, together with the gen- 
eral pleasure-seeking character of the people. Among the 
31 



482 IN A QUANDABY. 

line promenades just out of the city is one known as tne 
Prater, near the River Danube, a favorite resort of fashion 
and aristocracy, where we saw a brilliant display of elegant 
carriages and gayly -dressed occupants ; equestrians, out to 
display their elegant horses, and their own horsemanship; 
Austrian officers, in their rich uniforms, and pedestrians, out 
for an afternoon lounge and enjoyment of the gay scene. 

"Wo stopped en route to Venice, by rail, at Adelsberg, 
about fifty miles from Trieste, and which we were told by 
certain Americans to be sure and visit, as its grotto, the Cave 
of Adelsberg, was one of the wonders of Europe ; and, for 
once, we found the assertion to be correct, for, after a visit to 
it, we classed in our mind as among the wonders we had 
seen, thus : the Alps, Milan Cathedral, and the Grotto of 
Adelsberg. 

It is an odd experience to arrive in a foreign country at a 
railroad station at nine o'clock at night, and yourself and 
companion the only persons who leave the train, finding, on 
looking about you, after it has whizzed away into the dark- 
ness, that the five or six officials in attendance cannot under- 
stand a word of English, and that their language is equally 
unintelligible to you. How T ever, travel sharpens one's wits, 
and by sign language, and the pronouncing of the name of 
the hotel mentioned in our guide-book, " TIngarische Krone? 
we managed to make the si mewhat stolid officials under- 
stand that we wished to go to that place. But now a new 
difficulty seemed to arise, and an animated palaver took 
place, with the accompaniment of various shrugs, gesticula- 
tions, and contortions of visage, which really seemed to por- 
tend something serious, but which turned out to be that, as 
we had arrived on a train that very seldom set down any 
passengers there, there was no means of conveyance to the 
bote!, and we must walk. 

A guide, with a hand wagon bearing our luggage, accord- 
ingly btarted, and we trudged after him in tbe darkness. 1S<>, 
not darkness; for during our detention the moon had risen, 
and our journey to the old-fashioned, quaint-looking village, 



KXTEICATED. 483 

,md throagh the. court yard of the Hungarian Crown Hotel, 
was less disagreeable than it might have been. Arrived at 
the hotel, a new difficulty arose. The landlord spoke only 
Italian and a patois of German, which was Dutch to us, and 
was vexed at being disturbed from a grand exhibition, which 
was in progress in his dining-room, of feats of jugglery, and 
elocutionary exercises by two itinerant performers. 

Gratifying was it to have a young Italian girl at this Adels 
berg hostelry come out from the crowd, — not one of whom 
seemed to speak English or French, — speak perfect English 
to us, and translate our wants to the landlord. And gratify- 
ing was it to our national pride to see what alacrity the an- 
nouncement that we were Americans put into his step, and 
the speed of his preparations ; for in less than half an hour 
we had been provided with an excellent apartment, and were 
sitting at a little supper table at one end of the salle a man- 
ger, enjoying tea, chops, and other creature comforts. At 
the same time, a magician was performing in the room to an 
audience of fifty or sixty, whose costume, conversation, and 
manners were to us the most interesting part of it. We also 
found ourselves to be somewhat of a curiosity to the audi- 
tors, while the young Italian who could converse with us in 
our own tongue, having formerly been lady's maid in an Eng- 
lish family, found herself quite distinguished, on account of 
her accomplishment, among her friends, who crowded around 
her, and, as we afterwards learned, plied her with innumera- 
ble questions about the Americans and their distant country. 

Being the only foreigners in the place desirous of visiting 
the cave the next morning, we were obliged to pay the same 
expense that would have been required of a party of a duzen. 
The cave is the property of the government, and there is a 
regular tariff of charges, according to the grade of illumina- 
tion, — that is, the number of candles used in displaying the 
halls and grottos; for a goodly quantity are required to 
even partially display its wonders. The grand illumination, 
" utterly regardless," we declared against ; so also did we the 
cheap third and fourth rate, but decided upon the second, 



484 THE CAVE OF ADELSBERG. 

involving an expense of about twelve dollars and a half, and 
six guides. 

Our former experiences in caves, mines, ruins, and grottos 
have always necessitated a change of costume, a donning of 
rulber coats, overalls, old bats, or overshoes. Consequent) 
we were a little incredulous at the assertion that, with the 
exception of tolerably stout shoes, nothing more than an 
ordinary costume was necessary. We entered this wonderful 
cavern directly from the road, walking into it as into an 
arched excavation in a hill-side. Four of our six guides had 
preceded us, and kept about a quarter of an hour in advance, 
with their satchels of candles and torches, to illuminate the 
great halls and chambers on our approach ; while the othei 
two, one of whom, to our joy, spoke French, accompanied us 
with torches, to guide us, and point out the curiosities and 
wonders of the place. The cavern is miles in extent. And 
let not the reader imagine any damp, dirty hole in the earth, 
with muddy soil and dripping roof, or a squeezing through 
of narrow, dangerous passages, clambering over obstacles, or 
anything of the kind ; for, with the exception of the damp 
sand of a shallow stream, for twenty yards near the very 
entrance, the walking was as dry and free from absolute dis- 
comforts as a city street. 

Three hours' walk through the bowels of the earth re- 
vealed to us that there were as wondrous beauties below as 
above the earth ; for we passed through great natural Gothic 
passages, almost as natural as if shaped by the builders 
hands, forests and clusters of columns glittering with fantastic 
ornament. We emerged into a great dome-like apai'tment, 
big enough to set Boston State House down in its centre, and 
leave room to spare. This our guides had illumined with the 
candles olaced in every direction, and the efiect vrpon the 
glittering stalactites and stalagmites, frosted as they were 
with flashing crystals, was as if we stood in a vast hall of 
diamonds, sparkling around in every direction. 

On we went, amid pillars, arches, and spires. Here was a 
great dome, 01 e hundred and sixty-five feet high the guides 



UNDERGROUND WONDERS. I8fi 

told us, spangled, as far up as we could see, "with a perfect 
Dlaze of sparkling particles, reflecting back the light of the 
numerous candles, like a roof crusted with gems. Anothei 
great hall was shaped like a huge theatre. Right through 
the centre, where should be the parquet, rushed a swift, 
silent, black river — the Poick ; a natural stone bridge formed 
the orchestra ; beyond it, a great platform of rock, the stage ; 
two semicircular ledges of rock opposite were the two rows 
of dress chcle and boxes; only this great theatre was double, 
yes, treble the size of a real one. 

Our guides had placed a double row of lights over the 
orchestral bridge, which were reflected on the black stream 
beneath. Another row represented the stage lights. Two 
more rows ran round stone balconies where we stood, while 
the illusion is heightened by an extemporized chandelier, 
made from hogshead hoops, filled with rows of candles, and 
swung out by means of a wooden crane into the centre. 

The effect was magnificent and indescribable. 

Another great hall was designated " Mount Calvary," and 
was a succession of gradual ascents, past stalactite columns 
by a winding pathway, to a summit where were three forma- 
tions of the rock, which, by an effort of the imagination, 
might represent the group at our Saviour's crucifixion. Thie 
magnificent hall, like the others, blazed with sparkling 
particles, was rich in white, marble-like columns, clustered 
pillars, wondrous arches, and serai-transparent sheets of 
cream-colored rock. Another hall, when lighted, seemed a 
realization of those " fairy grottos," " abode of elves," or 
" home of the sea-nymphs," which we see represented upon 
the stage of the theatre ; for it was a wilderness of fret- work, 
pretty arches, open, lace-work sort of rock screens, slender 
spires, alabaster-like pillars, and all glittering and flashing 
with the alum-like, crystal-sparkling particles of the forma- 
tion which is found in these caverns. 

Passing from hall to hall, we encounter numerous curious 
and astonishingly natural formations. There v»ere statues, 
petrified waterfalls, a torrent in full career turned into ala- 



486 nature's imitation of art. 

baster; towers, one the leaning tower of Pisa, fifteen feet 
high, a very good representation ; columns as transparent as 
an alabaster vase ; ruined castles, thirty feet high, with battle- 
ments and turrets ; a splendid pulpit, grand throne, a butch- 
er's shop with joints hanging from its beams ; and a prison 
w ith its grated window, all in white stone. Here we came 
to great white curtains of rock, a dozen yards high and half 
that width, no thicker than the hand, which when struck with 
a wooden mallet bounded like a cathedral bell ; then we came 
to a place like the sea-beach, where it seemed as if the slow 
in-coming waves, as they washed upon the sands, had fel f 
the stony touch that had transformed all — for there were the 
little rippling waves in solid alabaster, caught in their retreat, 
with all the little eddies and foam-whirls as they were sliding 
back to the surf that sent them in, and held solid and immova- 
ble. Upon one huge crag of rock sat quite a shapely eagle, 
and from another drooped a huge flag in snowy folds, and 
beneath it, rising as if to grasp it, reached up a Titanic hand ; 
then came a tall palm tree, next a broom of stone big enough 
for a giant; a lion's head looking over a jutting crag, and yew 
trees by the path side, besides many other objects, some most 
wonderfully natural in appearance, and others requiring the 
exercise of a lively imagination to see the representation. 

The last grand apartment in this wonderful cave was the 
state ball-room, a beautiful circular-formed apartment, with 
its centre clear and unobstructed, affording ample space foi 
dancers, who use it once a year, on Whit-Sunday, when a 
grand ball, with full orchestra, is given there. This apart- 
ment contains a natural formation for the orchestra, an ele- 
gant rocky seat as a throne, and tiers of seats, rows of spar- 
kling columns about its sides, and elegant rocky fret-work far 
above. The effect of the illumination here, as in other apart* 
ments, Avas dazzlingly beautiful. 

After our three hours' walk, which was through a succes- 
sion of natural wonders, we emerged again into daylight from 
this Aladdin cavern. The whole of the journey was, with the 
exception of a dozen yards, over walks as dry as a floor, and 



VENICE. 487 

through passages twenty feet and more wide, and from twenty 
to two hundred and more feet in height. This subterranean 
wonder, we svere infoi'med, and we also saw by the traveller's 
register, but comparatively few Americans see; but it is a 
sight that none should miss. It may be " done " by stopping 
over half a day on the railroad between Vienna and Venice, 
or can be reached by riding out from Trieste by rail, a dis- 
tance of fifty miles. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

We found ourselves early in the morning, after an all-night 
ride, running over a flat, marshy, sea-shore-looking country, 
approaching Venice. Venice ! There was something magi- 
cal in the sound of that name, as conjuring up memories of 
school-boy dreams and youthful imagination, equal in effect to ' 
the sonorous boom of the word London, that fills the fancy 
like the tone of a great cathedral bell, when we felt we were 
actually to set foot in that great city, which historian, poet, 
and novelist had made us hunger to see for so many years. 

Venice, the scene of so much of Byron's poetry ; Venice, 
that Rogers sang of; Venice, with its Doges, its Council of 
Ten, its terrible dungeons ; Venice, the Merchant of Venice 
— we should see the very bridge that old Shylock met An- 
tonio upon ; Venice, with its great state barges and the Doge 
marrying the Adriatic ; Venice, with its canals, having those 
water parties in gondolas that we see in engravings represent- 
ing ladies and gentlemen in silk and velvet attire, with fruit, 
wine, and musical instruments before them, and broad, em- 
broidered table clothing dragging from the boatside into the 
water. 

The Venice of Shakespeare and Byron, and Rogers and 

Cooper, — 

"Beautiful Venice, the Bride of the Sea." 



488 ■ NOVEL SIGHTS. 

We rolled in on our train over the great railroad bridge, 
of two miles in length, which spans the lagoon, and entera 
Venice on the Island of St. Lucia. This bridge is fourteen 
feet wide, and upheld by two hundred find twenty-two arches, 
and its foundation is, of course, built upon piles driven into 
the muddy bed of the lagoon. 

We halt in a great railway station, a conductor pokes his 
]j(;ad into the railway carriage, and ejaculates, " Ven-neaU 
sear" and we are at V mice. 

Following the advice ol an old tourist, we had telegraphed 
to the Hotel Danieli that we were coming, and to have a con 
veyance ready at the station. We were, therefore, prepared, 
by our former experience in Vienna, for the gentlemanly per- 
sonage who addressed us in English, on alighting, to the 
effect that he had a gondola in waiting to convey us to the 
hotel. Our luggage was soon obtained, and safely stowed in 
the bottom of the long, black craft,' with its two oarsmen, 
one at each end ; and in another moment, propelled by their 
.measured and powerful strokes, we were gliding over the 
great canals of Venice, and having our first ride in a gondola. 

The novel sight of tall marble buildings, rising directly 
from out the water; the numerous gondolas gliding hither 
and thither ; the great reaches of canals, or alleys of water, 
stretching up between marble buildings ; the light iron lattice- 
work bridges ; painted gondola posts ; the slowly crumbling 
and time-defaced fronts of many an ancient palace ; the stal- 
wart gondoliers, and their warning shouts at the canal corners, 
— were all novelties on this our first gondola ride, till we ar- 
rived at the hotel, once the palace of the Danieli family, and 
which we found fronted on the grand canal, and but a short 
distance from the Square and Church of St. Mark, Doge's 
Palace, &c. 

Every traveller and letter-writer tells about the gondolas 
and the gondoliers, and some sentimental scribblers do draw 
the long-bow terribly about them. The long, low water craft, 
with their easy, comfortable, morroco cushions, upon which 
you might sit or recline at full length, and be either hidden 



GONDOLAS AND GONDOLIERS. 489 

*>r exposed to view, as suits the taste, with their gentle, almost 
imperceptible motion, I found to be the most luxurious and 
lazy mode of travel I ever experienced. But let not the 
reader understand that the canals, these water alleys that 
slash the city in every direction, are its only highways ; one 
may walk all over Venice on foot, although, of course, in pass 
ing from certain points to others, he may have to go a more 
roundabout way in order to cross the bridges than he would 
have to take in the gondola. 

The tall, graceful gondoliers are quite a study, and the 
marvellous skill with which they manage their long crafts a 
wonder. The scientific whirl of an oar-blade, a mere twist of 
the hand, or a sort of geometric figure cut in the water, will 
wind their narrow craft in and out a crowd of others, or avoid 
collisions that seem inevitable. The shout of wa'rning of the 
gondolier as he approaches a corner, or to others apjDroach- 
ing, is musically Italian, and much of the charm undoubtedly 
comes from the athletic forms, the dark Italian faces, deep 
black eyes, and graceful movements of the rowers, and the 
swift passage of their mysterious craft past tall palaces, flights 
of marble steps sloping down to the shining waters, and 
graceful bridges. Yet one wants to be on the larger or 
broadest canals to get up anything like poetic fervor in 
Venice, and then in sunlight, or, as was my good fortune, 
beneath the gorgeous gilding of the full moon. 

When your gondola takes you on a business trip, and you 
turn off from any of the great canals upon a narrow one for 
a short cut, in fact, leave the main street for a back or side 
one, you become aware that there is something besides poetry 
in the canals of Venice. The water, which was bright and 
shining in the sunlight, becomes, when shut up between tall 
buildings, like a great puddle in a cellar, or the dark pool in 
an abandoned mine; foul greenness and slime stick to the 
walls of old buildings and decaying palaces, fragments of sea- 
weed and other debris float here and there, the perfume is 
not of " Araby the Blest," and the general watery flavor of 
everything causes one to appreciate the Western American's 



190 FCENE OF ENCHANTMENT. 

criticism as to what sort of a place he found Venice, who re 
plied, "Damp, sir; very damp." 

Dreamily floating upon the Grand Canal, however, heneath 
the full moon of autumn, with the ducal palace .and its point- 
ed arches and columns, making a beautiful picture of light 
and shade; the tall pillars, bearing St. Theodoie and the 
Winged Lion, shooting up to the deep-blue sky, their sum- 
mits tipped with silver in the beam ; the tall obelisk of the 
Campanile rising in the background like a sentinel ; the canal 
between the palace and the prison, like a stream of light, 
revealing the well-known Bridge of Sighs, spanning the gap ; 
and withal the canal itself, a sheet of molten silver, which, 
disturbed by the gondolier's oar-blade, flashes like a shattered 
mirror, — and you realize something of what the poet has sung 
and the novelist written. Then comes the tinkle of a guitar 
faintly across the water ; long, dark gondolas glide silently 
past your own like magical monsters, guided by dark genii, 
whose scarcely perceptible motion of a dark wand in the 
silver sea sends them on with hardly a ripple ; the very shout 
of these fellows heard coming across the water at night has 
a melody in it, and the tremulous light from tall marble 
palaces reflected upon the water, with the flitting hither and 
thither of gondolier lanterns seen upon some of the narrower 
ebon currents, scarce reached by the moon between the lofty 
buildings, make the whole scene seem like a fairy panorama, 
that will vanish entirely before the light of day. 

The Grand Canal, the main artery of the city, which varies 
from one hundred to about two hundred feet wide, seems to 
wind round through the city, past all the most noted churches 
and palaces. Over one hundred and flfty other aqueous high- 
ways lead out and in to it, and more than three hundred 
bridges cross them, linking the seventy-two islands of Venice 
together like the octagon braces of a spider's web. 

The flood of memories of what one has read of the ancient 
glories of Venice, Queen of the Adriatic, its great commercial 
power, its government and doges, its magnificent palaces, its 
proud nobles, its wealth, luxury, and art, and, above all, the 



ANCLENT GRANDEUR. 49i 

investment of every monument and palace with historic inter- 
est and poetic charm, is apt to cause tht tourist to expend his 
epistolary labor in recalling and rehearsing historic facts and 
figures relating to the wonderful City of the Sea ; for, in these 
modern days, one can hardly realize, looking at her now, that, 
in the early part of the fifteenth century, her merchants had 
ten millions of golden ducats in circulation ; that three thou- 
sand war ships and forty-five galleys, besides Over three thou- 
sand merchant ships, flew her proud flag; that fifty-two 
thousand sailors, over a hundred great naval captains, a 
thousand nobles, besides judges, lawyers, merchants, and 
artisans were hers. 

" Once she did hold the gorgeous East in fee, 
And was the safeguard of the West," 

but now is but an exhibition of the traces of ancient grandeui, 
power, and magnificence combined with the too evident indi- 
cations of modern poverty and decay. 

The Doge's Palace, Piazzetta, Ducal Palace, and the two 
tall pillars bearing the Winged Lion and the statue of St. 
Theodore, seen from the water, are such familiar objects from 
the numerous paintings, — no art collection is complete with- 
out one or two, — engravings, and scenic representations, that 
they seem to be old acquaintances, and at first to lack the 
charm of novelty. Around the base of the two pillars, when 
the shade of the buildings falls that way, lay lazzaroni at full 
length on the flat pavement, while at the edge of the broad 
platform of stone, that ran out to the water of the canal, were 
moored groups of gondolas, the gondoliers on the alert for 
strangers who might wish to visit the Lido, Dogana del Mare, 
oj' Rialto. 

Rialto ! Yes ; that is the first place we will visit. 

" Many a time and oft upon the Rialto." 

w Hey, there, gondolier ! Ponte di Rialto" 
The gondolier certainly understood English, for he said 
Bomething about "see, signore," and prepared the cushions of 



492 SHYl OCK THE RIALTO. 

his gondola for us, upon which we straightway reclined, and 
in a few moments' time were corkscrewing our way through 
a crowd of market-boats, gondolas, and 'long-shore-men's craft, 
near the landing at one end of the celebrated Merchants' 
Exchange of Shylock's time. 

After various remarkable curves, twists, and wonderful 
windings among the water craft, enlivened with shouts, ex- 
clamations, a sparkling of black eyes, and play of swarthy 
features on the part of the gondoliers, we were brought to 
the dirty landing, and ascended from it, and stood upon the 
bridge — the Rialto. Much of the poetry of the Rialto 
bridge is destroyed by some of the guide-books, which state 
that the land on the left of the canal passing up was called 
the Rialto, and was considered the city, and distinguished a? 
such from the state of Venice ; and upon this Rialto, not the 
bridge, were the custom-house, various warehouses, and other 
establishments connected with trade and commerce ; that the 
real " on 'change," where Antonio and Shylock met, was in 
the square opposite the Church of San Jacope, which, in 
olden time, was crowded with merchants, who there trans- 
acted their business of weight and consequence. 

However, when I was a boy, I always, in my mind, made 
the rendezvous of the merchant and the Jew on the bridge ; 
but it must have been sadly changed since the time Shake- 
speare wrote of, unless Shylock came to buy some old clothes, 
and Antonio to obtain grapes, figs, or onions for dinner. This 
we thought while standing on the bridge. The vieAV of it 
from the water, where its single arch of ninety-one feet span, 
twenty-five feet from the current, lifts up the six arches on 
each side, rising to the open or central arcade at the top, with 
the rail and swelled balusters at their base, is so familial*, that, 
as we looked at it from the gondola, it seemed as if some old 
scene at the theatre had just been slid together at the sound 
of the prompter's whistle, or that we were looking at an old 
engraving through a magnifying-glass. 

The romantic imagination of him who fancies that he shall 
pace over this old structure, and muse on Shylock, Antonio, 



THE GIANTS' STAIRCASE. 493 

and Othello undisturbed upon its broad platform, is dispelled 
when he finds that its seventy-two feet of breadth is divided 
into three or four passages or streets, and two rows of shops, 
devoted to the sale of every conceivable thing in the way of 
provisions, fruit, vegetables, macaroni, clothing, cheap orna- 
ments, beads, dry goods, and china, absolutely crowded with 
hucksters of every description, giving an amusing panorama 
of the Venetian retail business in its various departments. 

Hard by our hotel was the Doge's Palace, another familiar 
edifice ; and, as we stood within its great court-yard, we could 
realize something of the luxury and art of Venice in former 
days. 

The marble front of the palace, looking into this enclosure, 
was a wilderness of elegant carving, armorial bearings, statues, 
wreaths, elaborate cornices, elegant columns, wrought balus- 
trades, graceful arches, and beautiful bass-reliefs. Here, in 
the centre of the marble pavement, are the great bronze open- 
ings of cisterns, nearly breast high, richly wrought, and live 
or six feet in diameter. Standing upon this pavement, we 
look up at the celebrated Giant's Staircase — a superb ascent, 
and architecturally simple and grand. At its top stand two 
colossal statues of Mars and Neptune on either side ; and it 
was here, upon this upper step between the two colossi, that 
the doges were crowned; and here Byron locates the last 
scene of Marino Faliero, where, when the citizens rush in, 

" The gory head rolls down the Giant's Stairs." 

The panelling of this grand staircase is of the most ele- 
gantly wrought and polished marble, of various hues, artisti- 
cally arranged. Everywhere the prodigality of rich and costly 
marbles in panellings, pillars, arcades, arches, colonnade*, and 
luxurious decoration is lavished with an unsparing hand. 
Opposite the Giant's Stairs are elegant statues of Adam 
and Eve, while others of great Venetians, or allegorical sub- 
jects, appear in various niches. We stood in the Hall of the 
Great Council, a splendid apartment of over one hundred and 
seventy-five feet long and eighty-five in width, the walls cov 



194 THE DOGES OF VENICE. 

Bred with magnificent paintings — Tintoretto's huge picture 
of Paradise, eighty-four feet wide and thirty-four high; the 
Discovery of Pope Alexander, painted by the sons of Paul 
Veronese ; a splendid battle-piece, representing a contest be- 
tween the Turks and Venetians and Crusaders ; the Return 
of a Doge after a Victory over the Genoese ; Paul Veronese's 
allegorical picture of Venice, and many pictures illustrating 
the history of Venice, among them one of a great naval bat- 
tle, full of figures, and quite a spirited composition ; others 
portrayed various scenes illustrating the doges' reception of 
the pope, and the performance of various acts acknowledging 
his power. 

All around the upper part of the walls ran the noted series 
of portraits, seventy-two in number, of the Doges of Venice, 
and, of course, our eyes first sought that of Marino Faliero, 
or, rather, the place where it should have been. Directly op- 
posite the throne — probably that other doges might take 
warning — hung the frame, like the others, but in place of the 
aged face and whitening hairs, crowned with the doge's cap, 
was the black curtain, on which was painted, — 

"Ific est locus Marini Faletro decapiti pro criminibus." 

This inscription does more to perpetuate the doge's name 
to posterity than his portrait, or anything else, even had Byron 
never written his tragedy. Here, among these portraits, are 
those whose names are famed in Venetian history. Francisco 
Foscari, who reigned for over thirty-five years; "blind old 
Dandolo," who, when elected doge, in 1192, was eighty-five 
years of age, and led the attack on Constantinople in person 
at ninety-seven. Foscari's tragic story is told by Byron ; and 
there are others whose deeds, and almost very names, are for 
gotten. 

History tells us that of the first fifty doges, five abdicated, 
five were banished with their eyes put out, five were mas- 
sacred, nine deposed, and two fell in battle long before the 
reign of Marino Faliero, who was beheaded. Andrea Don 
ilolo died of vexation. Foscari, after his long and glorious 



THE lion's mouth. 495 

term of service to his country, was rewarded by that circle of 
demons, the Council of Ten, by fiendishly torturing his son, 
in the vain hope of extorting a confession, failing in which 
they deposed the father, who, when the great bell of St. Mark 
sounded, announcing the election of his successor, fell dead 
from a rupture of a blood-vessel. 

An historical apartment is this Hall of the Great Council, 
with the painted battles of the once proud republic lining the 
walls, and the faces of its seventy-two doges looking silently 
down upon these mimic scenes of their glory and triumph. 
Here, upon the very platform where I stood, was once the 
doge's throne. Here he spoke to the council ; so would I. 

" Most potent, grave, and reverend seigniors ; " 

and Othello's address never had more quiet listeners than 
the seventy-two red-robed, bell-capped old nobles in the pic- 
ture frames as my voice echoed in this grand old hall, where 
theirs had, nearly" five centuries ago, been listened to upon 
affairs of state with rapt attention. A wealth of art in the 
collection of splendid creations of great artists pervades this 
ancient home of the doges, which greet the visitor at every 
turn as he goes from room to room; collections of bronzes, 
curious carvings, and rich ornamental work are profuse, and in 
one apartment is an exceedingly curious collection of ancient 
maps, made in the sixteenth century, and a rare and interest- 
ing collection of manuscripts, autographic letters, &c. 

But, after having stood upon the doges' throne in the 
Council Hall, and stepped out on the balcony where the 
doges were wont to show themselves to the people below, 
we must see the " Lion's Mouth." 

Upon inquiry, we found we had passed it ; and no wonder, 
for not far from the staircase was pointed out to us a narrow slit 
in the wall, very much like that at a country post-office for the 
reception of letters, through which the secret denunciations 
w^ere slipped for the inspection of the terrible Council of Ten- 

" But where is the Lion's Mouth ? " 

" Here is where it was" said the guide : and he further told 



496 THE COUNCIL OF TEIN. 

us that government was having a bronze head made to supply 
the place of the old one, that was long since removed — for 
travellers would not he satisfied, unless they saw here the 
real bronze head of a lion, with a fierce mouth, emblematical 
of the cruel grip of the terrible inquisitorial council, that 
denunciations which sent a man to the tortures of the rack 
and the block itself could ever have been thrust through so 
contemptible a slit in the wall. 

Next we sat down in the Hall of the Council of Ten it- 
self — a room with its ceiling richly ornamented with paint- 
ings by Paul Veronese, and beautiful paintings by other art- 
ists upon its walls. Then Ave visited the doges' audience 
chamber, rich in pictures by Paul Veronese ; but the best 
picture we saw here, from this artist's pencil, was the Rape 
of Europa, in which the soft beauty and rich coloring of the 
landscape contended with the loveliness of the female figure in 
exciting the spectator's admiration. This picture is in an 
ante-room, said to have once been a guard-room, upon the 
walls of which are also four of Tintoretto's best pictures — 
Venus crowning Ariadne, Mercury and the Graces, Vulcan 
at his Forge, and Pallas and Mars. 

But it is useless to enumerate paintings in these gi and old 
palaces, as such enumeration becomes but little better than 
a catalogue. As we have said before, these glorious creations 
of the great artists waken enthusiasm in the dullest breast. 
We have nothing at home with which to compare them ; they 
are sights and wonders in foreign lands that are a large por- 
tion of the chann of foreign travel. To the lover of, or 
enthusiast in art, they are a luxurious feast and a joy for- 
ever; and the ordinary sight-seer soon ceases, after travelling 
abroad, to regard what he has before deemed undue praise or 
admiration of the old masters, as affectation on the part of 
many of those who utter it. We stand " in Venice, on th > 
Bridge of Sighs," and wonder if any modern tourist ever does 
so without repeating Byron's couplet ; slowly we pass over it, 
glance out at the window at the water flashing beneath, think 
how many sad hearts have crossed this little span, and follow 



TERBIBLE DUNGEONS. 497 

oar guide down into the prison vaults below, down through 
intricate passages, terrible dungeons in the solid masonry, and 
dimly lighted from the loopholes of the passage. 

" But will signore go down and see the others ? " 

" Others ! Great heavens ! can it be that there are any 
worse than these?" 

The guide answers with a significant shrug, and we follow 
him to a still lower depth. 

Here, down below the level of the surface of the canal, are 
a tier of holes in the solid masonry — one can hardly call 
these relics of tyranny anything else. A narrow gallery 
leads past them, from one end of which the only light and air 
obtained by the inmates were received. These dungeons are 
about twelve feet long by six in width, and seven feet high, 
and were formerly lined with wood, with a little wooden 
platform raised a foot from the floor, upon which the prisoner 
rested on his straw. We went into one of these hideous 
dungeons, where some of the wood-work still remained, upon 
which, by the aid of a candle, we saw some half-obliterated 
cuttings and inscriptions in Italian, said to be the mementos 
of unhappy prisoners who had pined in these terrible places. 
It makes one almost shudder to stand, even now, in one of 
these fearful prisons, although their grated doors were long 
since wrenched from their hinges by the French; but the 
light of day cannot even now reach them, respiration is diffi- 
cult, and the visitor feels, while standing in them, a nameless 
horror, or a sensation akin to dread, lest some forgotten door 
should clap to and fasten him down forever: so we hurry 
forth, glad to see once more the blue sky above, and chase 
dull fancies from the brain by an invigorating draught of 
heaven's pure air. 

Across the broad pave, in front of the Doge's Palace, and 
we come to the two granite pillars, each hewn from a single 
block, one bearing St. Theodore, and the other the Winged 
Lion, which, upon their pedestals, must be over sixty feet in 
height ; they form a sort of state entrance, or indicators, as it 
were, tc the grand Square of St. Mark. The end colonnade 
32 



498 SQUARE OP ST. MARK. 

of the Ducal Palace, towards these towers, at the landing, 01 
mole, ranged along the edge of the canal, forms part of the 
piazetta, continuation, or grand state opening of the square 
out to the water side. 

We pass between these columns and over the place that 
has been so often reddened by blood at public executions, 
and glance up before entering the square, at the elegant archi- 
tecture of the palace on our left. First, a row of Corinthian 
pillars upholds a richly-omamented frieze, and within the pillars 
Gothic arches form the covered passage for pedestrians; 
above, the Gothic pillars are repeated, the bend of the inner 
arches having elegantly sculptured marble figures, in half- 
reclining positions, and carved heads over the key-stones; 
above this second tier comes an elegant frieze, ornamented 
with Cupids holding beautifully-sculptm*ed hanging garlands, 
and sheltered by an elaborate projecting cornice; above this, 
the marble carved rail and balusters, with each post sur 
.mounted with a full-length marble statue. 

This elegant and elaborate workmanship, these two grand 
columns, and the series of arches of the Doge's Palace, the 
canal between the palace and the prison, and the Bridge of 
Sighs, were the first objects that greeted my sight going out 
fVorri tbe hotel in the morning ; like the gondolas and canals, 
they seemed of the Venice we read about, as they do even 
now, as we look at them in one of the photographic me- 
mentos of our visit. 

The great Square of St. Mark, or " Pe-at-zir San 3farJco" 
as tourists learn to call it, after they have been there, is five 
hundred and eighty feet long by about two hundred and 
seventy wide. It is an elegant enclosure, paved with broad, 
flat slabs, and surrounded by elegant buildings, the lower 
stories all around, except beneath one or two public build- 
ings, are arcades, in which are shops, restaurants, and money 
changers' offices. 

At one end of the square^ right across the whole space of 
It, rises the Church of St. Mark, with its arched entrances, 
florid decorations, bronze horses, and mosque-like cupolas: 



TRICKS OF TRADE. 199 

npon one side extends the Ducal Palace, the lower story on 
the square utilized into cafes and shops ; upon the other side 
are the Mint and Library, and also the great clock tower, with 
a huge sun-dial, in blue and gold, upon its square side ; above 
it, in a sheltered niche, is the Virgin and Child ; above this, a 
huge winged lion upon a cornice ; and standing high upon the 
top of the tower, in the open air, is a great bell, beside which 
stand two huge bronze Moors, armed with hammers, with 
which they strike the houra on the bell. 

Looking towards the Church of St. Mark, we see the lofty 
Campanile lifting its huge pyramidal top three hundred and 
twenty feet above the pavement. Here, in this great square, 
of a cool evening and moonlight night, played a fine band of 
music, while the public distributed itself about at tables, 
which were set far out upon the pave, and ordered refreshing 
ice-creams, delicate cakes, and light wines, from the cafe 
waiters, which they enjoyed while listening to the music. 
Ladies and gentlemen sauntered up and down ; lazzaroni 
stretched themselves at full length in shadowy nooks ; pedlers 
of curiosities, selecting foreigners with unnerring instinct, 
sought to dispose of their wares at six times their value, re- 
minding one very forcibly of their image-selling brethren in 
America. A fellow, with a handful of tooth-picks carved out 
of bone into the shape of a gondola, sauntered up. 

" Signore Inglese" (exhibiting his wares), "you buy him ?" 

" No, no" (shaking my head) ; " don't want it." 

Who ever heard of a man's picking his teeth after eating 
ice-cream? But the peripatetic dealer was not to be repulsed 
at the first charge. 

" Signore, buy ; varee sheep." 

"How much?" 

Unlucky words. He scented a trade at once. His black 
eyes sparkled, and his white teeth glittered in the moonlight. 
The rogue understood a little English, too. 

" One lira, one franc, sare ; magnifique." 

" One franc ! Quarter of a dollar for a contemptible little 
tooth-pick 1 Get out." 



500 JEWELRY AND PHOTOGRAPHS. 

" Varee fine, sare; gondola, sare; tree for two lira" (hold- 
ing up his fingers, and laying the merchandise on the table 
before me). 

" No, no ; too dear." 

" Vat you give me for him ? " 

At this moment the cafe waiter brought me a few copper 
coins in change, and was profoundly grateful for two of 
them. I chinked the others in my hand absently. 

" Give you four sous." 

" Ah, no, signore " (with a deprecatory shrug) ; " take for 
half lira — ten sous." 

" No ; don't want it. Four sous." 

He gathered up his tooth-picks, replaced them in his little 
tray, walked away half a dozen steps — then returned. 

" Signore sail have him for four sous." 

He pocketed the coins and passed away, and I became 
possessed of a Venetian memento which I afterwards found 
could be bought in any of the shops for half what I paid 
for it. Nevertheless, it was a cheap lesson in the Italian 
retail trade, which I afterwards profited by. 

The reader will recollect that the promenading, and the 
lounge at the tables in the square, is undisturbed by horses 
and vehicles. There are no horses in Venice. If one by 
chance should be brought there, he would be exhibited as a 
show. The shops around the square are frequented by trav- 
ellers for the purchase of Venetian jewelry, glass beads, and 
glass ware. 

Little silver gondolas, scarf-pins, with the winged lion in 
gold, and mosaics, inlaid with figures of beetles, are much 
bought by tourists. So are the little mother-of-pearl-looking 
shells, strung together in necklaces and bracelets, and hawked 
round by the pedlers. But let no one who visits Venice 
leave without buying some of Carlo Ponti's photographs, the 
best and cheapest in the world, unless he has changed since 
we were in his shop, 52 St. Mark's Square. These photo- 
graphic -views were of rare beauty, and of all the interesting 
views in Venice, public buildings, exteriors and interiors; 



SIGHTS IN THE SQUARE. 501 

also all the great paintings, besides views of buildings and 
paintings in the great galleries of other cities. These beauti- 
ful large-sized views, which bring back what they so faith- 
fully represent vividly to mind, we purchased at from thirty 
to seventy-five cents each. In New York and Boston the 
price was from three to five dollars each. 

We have sauntered all around the great Square of St. 
Mark, have waited till the hour of two was struck, and seen 
the cloud of pigeons that come, with their rush of wings like 
a shower, down to the pavement at one end of the square, to 
be fed with their daily ration of corn by the government, 
punctually at the stroke; we have stood before the three 
huge pedestals of bronze, which are a dozen or twenty feet 
high, and look like elegantly-wrought gigantic candlesticks, 
the candles being the tall masts that rise therefrom, from the 
peaks of which, in the days of Venetian glory, floated the 
silken gonfalons emblematical of the three dominions under 
the republic — Venice, Cyprus, and the Morea. These 
beautifully-wrought pedestals exhibit in bass-relief figures of 
Tritons, ships, and sea-nymphs at their base, with a circle of 
the everlasting winged lions further up towards the centre, 
and above them ornamental leaves and flowers enclosing the 
medallion portrait of one of the doges. a 

We entered the Campanile, or bell-tower, after admiring 
the statues about the base, with some doubts about under- 
taking its ascent, fearing such a getting up stairs as its lofty 
altitude would call for. To our surprise, however, we found 
that there were no stairs whatever, the ascent being made by 
a brick-paved walk, laid in a series of zigzags, each a gradual 
ascent from the other. So up we went, the whole three hun- 
dred and twenty feet, — a long walk, — to the great pyramid 
above, and enjoyed a superb view of Venice, and the Gulf 
of Venice, froni the top. 

But the lion of Venice (not the winged one) is the grand 
old Church of St. Mark, with its five great arched doorways, 
surrounded by magnificent frescoes, its elegant columns, and 
bronze horses of historic fame, looking out into the square, 



502 THE BKONZE HORSES. 

This church is said to be a mixture of Grecian and Romai 1 
architecture, but its domes give it a suggestion of Saracenic 
style. 

The three huge masts, with their bronze pedestals, acaud 
directly in front of it, and the pavement of the square before 
the church is fancifully laid out. One great beauty about the 
entrances is the double row of numerous little columns of 
various kinds of marble, beautifully wrought. I counted of 
these fifty-two in the lower tier. They are supported by the 
same number above, and in the arches of the five doorways 
are great mosaics, in bright colors, representing the Last 
Judgment, the Entombment of St. Mark, &c. Above these, 
over the huge arches of the doors, except the central one, 
are other rich mosaics, representing the Descent from the 
Cross, the Ascension, &c. A marble gallery and railing run 
above the great arches of the doorways ; and over the cen- 
tral one, in front of a huge arched window of many-hued 
glass, stand the four bronze horses of which so much has 
been written. They are said to have been brought to Rome 
by Augustus after his victory over Antony, to have adorned 
a triumphal arch there, and been successively removed by 
Nero the fiddler, Domitian the fly-catcher, and Trajan, forum 
and wall-builder, to arches of their own. The Emperor 
Constantine then carried them to his new capital, Constanti- 
nople, which, hundreds of years after, fell into the hands of 
the Turks, but which, in turn, was taken by the crusaders in 
the fourth crusade, in 1206, whence they were wrenched 
from where they stood by knightly plunderers, and brought 
to Venice, to be again pulled down by the great modern cru- 
sader, Napoleon. France, after having them trotting forth 
from the top of the Arc du Carrousel for eighteen years, had 
to trot them back to Venice. So that these horses in their 
day, which is a space of fifteen hundred years, have travelled 
about the world to some extent. These bronze steeds weigh 
nearly two thousand pounds each. 

Above the upper mosaics, the horses, and upper arches, the 
fringe or decoration of the arches is crammed and crowded 



CHURCH OF ST. MARK.. 503 

with fret work, statuary, and ornament. Six open-work, 
ornamental steeples enclose colossal statues of saints ; a 
fringe and fret-work of angels, palm-branches, saints, and 
scroll-work run all along the top of the arches ; upon the 
points of four stand four other saintly statues ; on the point 
over the great arch is the statue of St. Mark ; under him is 
his winged lion, with his paw upon the Book, and in every 
conceivable nook and comer a statue, mosaic, or carving, 
making this great temple one of florid display, while it is 
rich with the plundered spoils of the crusaders, wrenched 
from mosques of the Moslem, and from Constantine's capital, 
when it fell into their hands. Everywhere in this church the 
visitor sees evidence of this plunder of the East, or, as the 
old crusaders might have said, " reclamation from the Mos- 
lems." One of the great bronze doors leading into the spa- 
cious vestibule is said to have been one brought from the 
Mosque of St. Sophia in 1203 ; and the vaulted roof of this 
vestibule is filled with beautiful mosaic representations of 
Scripture subjects, while around its walls are elegant columns 
if rare marbles, brought from the East. The" huge portals 
of entrance are of bronze, and besides the one mentioned 
above is the elegant central one, of a sort of Moorish work- 
manship, with its panels inlaid with figures and carvings in 
si] ver. 

Amid these artistical and historical curiosities, we are 
pointed to an inlaid red and white place in the pavement, at 
the principal entrance, marking the spot where Pope Alexan- 
der III. and Frederick Barbarossa, the bold, red-bearded em- 
peror of Germany, who did so much to raise the secular 
power of his kingdom in opposition to arrogated papal 
supremacy, met and were reconciled. In other words, here 
is where, in 1177, Frederick rather "knocked under" to the 
pope. 

Passing in at the portal, the spectator is amazed at the 
vast mass of elegant columns of marble, porph3 r ry, verd 
antique, agate, and other elegant stone, superb mosaics, gild- 
ing and ornament in profusion that meet his view on every 



b04 WONDEES OF ST. MARK'S. 

side. This church was, in fact, a sort of treasure-house to 
the Venetians. Every ship that Went out from the republic 
when it was building was enjoined to bring back material for 
it ; the doges lavished their wealth upon it, and great artists 
left their work upon its walls, while the wealth which rich 
sinners paid in, in offerings, in the hope of purchasing with 
money immunity from divine wrath for their cruelties and 
crime, was expended on it with unsparing hand. 

It is like many other old cathedrals in other countries — a 
monument of the nation of the past, and not of the present. 
So St. Mark's is a symbol of old Venice as it was, and of 
which we read in history and romance ; and as we stand upon 
its pavement, uneven in marble billows, we look for solemn, 
long-bearded doges, priests in their vestments, with swing- 
ing censers, moving amid the pillars ; or a group of crusaders 
around the octagon pulpit, with a Maltese cross in its panel, 
instead of a few modern dressed tourists in the midst of its 
dim-lighted splendor. 

The church is built in the form of a Greek cross, with a 
great dome Over the centre, and also one over each arm of 
the cross. The walls and columns of the interior are of mar- 
bles of the richest and most elegant description ; there are 
said to be five hundred of the columns, and the various por- 
tions of the interior, with its different style of architecture, 
Grecian, Gothic, and Saracenic, would take a volume to de- 
scribe. In fact the visitor hardly knows where to begin first 
to examine this incongruous mass of architectural defects, 
historic interests, splendor, and collection of rare works of art 
badly displayed. The interior of this wonderful old church 
can no more be described in a tourist's sketch, than it can be 
seen in a single visit. 

There is the very porphyry basin which holds the holy 
water set on a pedestal that was once a Greek altar, upon 
which the Achaians sacrificed to their gods. There is the 
superb marble colonnade separating the nave from the choir, 
supported by columns of black and white porphyry, ami up- 
holding fourteen elegant marble statues, seven on each side, 



VENETIAN CHURCHES. 505 

with a huge cross bearing the figure of the Saviour, in solid 
silver, in the centre. There is a magnificent high altar, with its 
lour richly-wrought columns, elegant bronze statues, its costly 
mosaics, its pictures in gems and enamel of scenes in the life 
of St. Mark, its rich bass-relief and gorgeous canopy. The 
canopy of another altar is supported by four fluted spiral pil 
lars brought from the Temple of Jerusalem, two of them of 
translucent alabaster. The sacristy, with its roof covered 
with rich mosaics ; the curious tessellated floor, and the won- 
derfully decorated roof above; the different chapels and 
altars, each one of which is a specimen of the art of a dif- 
ferent time, are seen here. 

There were the splendid tomb of Cardinal Zeno, built in 
1515; bronze doors made in Venice in the year 1100; the 
marble columns taken from Constantinople in 1205; the 
bronze statue of St. John, by Segala in 1565 ; .the altar table 
made from a slab of stone brought from Tyre in 1126; mon- 
ument of the last doge buried in St. Mark in 1354 ; the figure 
of Christ, in silver, 1594 ; Greek, Byzantine, and Gothic speci- 
mens of art. The church is a study of marbles, pillars, and 
colonnades ; every part of it seems to have a history, and the 
eye becomes wearied with an endless succession of different 
objects, and the mind confused in endeavoring to grasp and 
retain distinct impressions of various portions, which it only 
preserves, at last, as one general picture. 

In Venice the tourist cannot but be struck, as elsewhere 
in Italy, with the splendor of the churches, the wealth of 
gold, silver, and bullion locked up idle, dormant, and useless, 
contrasted with the abundance of the beggars that in grisly 
crowds beset the very doors of these splendid temples. 
Cathedrals, whoso wealth would build a hundred such re- 
ligious edifices as we erect in America, and which contribute 
nothing to the expense of the state, maintain little more than 
•<\ corporal's guard of bedizened priests, while hundreds of 
gaunt, famine-stricken wretches are perishing at their very 
threshold for the necessaries of life. It seemed wicked to look 
upon great solid silver busts of forgotten archbishops, gem- 



506 MARBLE DBAPEEY. 

crusted crosiers and mitres that make their public appearance 
but once in a year in a church ceremonial ; altars with bor- 
ders of solid gold and flashing jewels, hidden from public 
vieAV, and unveiled only on the occasion of church festivals, 
or for the tourist's shilling, while the poor, ignorant followers 
of the church vainly plead in misery at its portals. 

The wealth that has been lavished here on the churches 
seems to have been poured out with as free a hand as if the 
coffers of the church were exhaustless. In the Chiesa de 
Gesuiti, or Church of the Jesuits, the luxurious magnificence 
of the interior is almost indescribable. The walls of this 
edifice are completely sheathed in carved marble, polished to 
the highest degree, and inlaid with other colored marbles in 
flowers and running vines. Up, around, and near the pulpit 
are heavy, massive, and rich hangings, apparently of white 
and blue brocatelle, graceful, rich, and luxurious ; but you find 
it to be solid inlaid marble, fashioned by the cunning of the 
artificer into the semblance of drapery. There it is with 
fringe and fold, tassel and variegated pattern, wrought with 
costly and laborious toil from the solid stone. Great twisted 
columns of verd antique uphold the altar, and a costly 
mosiac pavement covers the space before it ; the altar itself 
is rich with many-colored marbles, agate, and jasper, and all 
around the church the sculptors have wrought out the marble 
into a counterfeit resemblance of rich draperies — a wondrous 
work of art. In this magnificent temple, in front of the great 
altar, is a slab marking the last resting-place of the last doge 
of Venice, Manini — the Latin inscription telling that "the 
ashes of Manini are transmitted to eternity." 

The Church of Santa Maria de Frari, built nearly six hun- 
dred years ago, is another edifice rich in artistic works and 
monuments. Here is a mausoleum erected to the doge 
Pesaro, who died in 1650, and of which all tourists speak; 
and well they may. It is a great marble temple, eighty feet 
high, its lower story of a sort of Moorish architecture, open ; 
and in the centre sits a statue of the departed doge upon a 
Barcophagus upheld by dragons, while two obliging bronze 



TJTIAN'S MONUMENT. 507 

skeletons hold in their bony hands scrolls for the purpose of 
revealing the virtues of the great departed to posterity. But 
this is not all of this remarkable monument. At the four 
corners of the pillars, upholding the temple, stand four huge 
Nubians carved in marble ; their tunics are of white marble, 
their legs and faces black, and seen through rents in their 
white marble garments appears the black as of their skins — a 
novel effect of sculpture, most certainly. 

The beautiful monument to Titian, completed in 1853, is 
another of the artistic wonders of this church. Upon a mar- 
ble platform of three steps rises, first, a great marble base or 
pedestal about thirty feet long, at each end of which are 
seated two allegorical figures of men, with tablets upon which 
they have written inscriptions. One of the figures is of a 
man in the full vigor of life, and the other of extreme old 
age ; between these two rises another huge pedestal or orna- 
mental marble cornice, ten feet high, bearing upon its face 
two angels in bass-reliefs, supporting a wreath enclosing the 
names of Titian, and King Ferdinand, who completed the 
monument; upon this second pedestal four richly-decorated 
Corinthian columns support a lofty Corinthian canopy, look- 
ing, in fact, like the grand arched entrance to a temple, the 
centre being the widest, highest, and composed of an arch. 
Seated in the centre is a grand statue of the great artist, with 
the figure of an angel at his side ; between, and at the sides 
of the tall columns supjDorting the canopy above, are colossal 
marble statues of four female allegorical figures, and on the 
background, behind these groups, upon the walls of this 
marble temple as it were, are sculptured elegant bass-reliefs 
of the painter's greatest works, the Assumption, Martyrdom 
of St. Lawrence, and Peter Martyr; upon the wings of the 
great arch, above the column supports, are other beautiful 
bass-reliefs, and surmounting the whole, the winged lion, in 
sculptured marble. The whole structure is very beautiful in 
its workmanship and elaborate in detail, the eight colossal 
statues finely done, the marble drapery strikingly natural 
Even a picture of this elegant monument is something t< 



60S canova's monument. 

Btudy and admire, and to be able to stand before tbe structure 
itself is more than doubly gratifying. 

The same may be remarked also of the monument of 
Canova, directly opposite, the design of which is almost the 
same as that of Archduchess Christiana at Vienna. It is a 
huge pyramid of white marble, and at the right, passing to- 
wards its open door, is a procession of life-size figures in mar- 
ble, representing, I suppose, Art, Religion, Genius, &c. The 
first, a figure completely shrouded in its white marble drapery, 
is bearing a funeral urn ; next comes a youthful figure ascend- 
ing the steps, bearing a torch; next to this comes a male and 
female, walking together in an attitude of grief, bearing a fes- 
toon of flowers, and following them two boys with torches. 
At the left of the open door of the monument rests the 
winged lion in a crouching attitude, with paws crossed upon 
a book, and below him a colossal figure of an angel, seated 
upon loose, flowing • drapery thrown upon the marble steps, 
and leaning, with half-bowed head, upon his extinguished 
torch. This last figure is most naturally and effectively 
posed, and, with one of its feet hanging carelessly down from 
the lower step over the pedestal, and the drapery fluttering 
beneath it, has an exceedingly natural air, and the figure is 
beautiful and graceful as one might suppose an angelic visit 
ant would be. 

There are many other monuments rich in historic interest 
in this fine old church. There is that of Francesco Foscari, 
whose name has been rendered immortal by Byron ; and op- 
posite it the tomb of another doge — a colossal structure, for- 
ty feet high and twenty-seven feet wide, decorated with a 
profusion of sculpture, including nineteen full-length figures ; 
the monument of Simeone Dandolo, who was one of the 
judges of Marino Faliero; the elegant monument in rich 
marble of Jacopo Pesaro, who died in 1547, and near" it a 
picture over the Pesaro altar, the property of the Pesaro 
fa™iily, representing the Virgin and Child, seated witbin a 
ir gnificent temple, with St. Peter, St. Francis, and other 
sr nts standing near, while numerous members of the Pesaro 



CATHEDRALS AND PICTURES. 509 

family were kneeling at different points. It was a grand and 
elegant painting, said to be one of Titian's best works. The 
tittle chapels opening out of the church were rich in beautiful 
pictures, monuments, and sculpture — votive offerings, or to 
perpetuate the memory of members of some of the great, but 
raw extinct or almost forgotten, Venetian families. Those 
wbo have a desire to view the tombs and monuments of the 
old doges will find many of them in the Church of Santi 
Giovannio e Paolo, including the splendid one of Andrea Ven- 
dramin, who died in 1479. 

This great church is three hundred and thirty-one feet long, 
one hundred and forty-two feet wide in the transepts, and one 
hundred and twenty-three feet high. Here, on entering at the 
left, we saw the space that was occupied on the wall by Titi- 
an's masterpiece, Peter Martyr, recently destroyed by fire. 
Owing to some repairs that were to be made in this part of 
the church, this priceless painting was removed to one of the 
side chapels for greater safety, which soon after took fire, and 
was totally destroyed, with all its rich decorations and pic- 
tures, the Titian among the rest. 

The Santa Maria della Salute, an elegant church, with itb 
great dome supported inside by eight pillars, between which 
open seven chapels, is beautifully decorated ; and here we saw 
Tintoretto's picture of the Marriage at Cana, Titian's De- 
scent of the Holy Spirit, and the elegantly-sculptured high 
altar. 

We become wearied with paintings at the churches, and 
saints, martyrs, and Madonnas are at last so monotonous 
that one ought to take a vacation between a visit to the 
churches and the Academy of Fine Arts, in which I cannot 
begin to enumerate the beautiful paintings. Titian's Assump- 
tion of the Virgin is one glorious work, however — rich in 
color and elegant in execution ; Tintoretto's Adam and Eve, 
another; the Fisherman presenting the Ring to the Doge, 
very fine ; and the great picture, by Paul Veronese, of Our 
Saviour in the House of Levi, an immense painting covering 
one entire end of a hall, — I should think thirty feet or more 



610 FLORENCE. 

long by twenty in height, — a very animated composition; 
Titian's St. John in the Desert, and Tintoretto's Crucifixion, 
with the Three Marys, besides an indefinite number of saints, 
inartyra undergoing tortures, Madonnas, holy families, Virgins, 
&c, in various styles of art are here. 

All the guide-books tell us that Florence is the fairest city 
of the earth, that it is Florence the Beautiful; so old Genoa 
is called Genoa Superba; and, in fact, local pride gives many 
of these old cities grandiloquent or flattering titles, the pres- 
ent significance of which the tourist fails to see. Florence 
owes its reputation for beauty more to its beautiful surround- 
ings and its charming environs than to any beauties of its own, 
being in the centre of a sort of pretty valley, as it were, with 
gentle elevations surrounding it, and the picturesque peaks of 
the Apennines rising in the distance. From the hill of Fie- 
sole the visitor gets a most charming view of hill, valley, 
mountain, and plain, and of the city beneath, with the Amo 
twisting its silver thread through it. The country all around 
is picturesque in the extreme, with exquisite bits of landscape 
taking in vineyards and country houses, villages and church 
spires, gently sloping hill-sides, and distant mountain peaks» 
assuming many strange hues in the sunlight. But the streets 
of the city itself are generally narrow, and with but little 
architectural display. The great palaces look like fortresses, 
and built, as perhaps they were, for the strongholds of royalty. 

Our first walk carried us to the Piazza del Gran' Duca, and 
here rose the huge square, massive-looking building, the 
Palazzo Vecchio, with great, projecting battlements, and the 
tall, mediaeval-looking watch-tower rising up at one corner, so 
familiar from the many pictures that have been drawn of it. 
Right about in this vicinity are many superb works of art in 
the open air — an equestrian statue of Cosmo L, the Fountain 
of Neptune, with the god in his car drawn by sea-horses, with 
nymphs, sea-gods, and tritons sporting about the margin of 
the basin; and on one side of the door of the palace stands a 
colossal group of Hercules slaying Cacus, while on the other 
is a statue of David by Michael Angelo 



AllT LN THE STREETS. 511 

This reminds .me that we hear this great artist's name at 
every turn in Florence, see his portrait in every picture store, 
and prints of his works in the window of every print shop ; 
for are we not in Florence, the birthplace of Angelo — not only 
of Angelo, but of Dante, Petrarch, Galileo, Boccaccio, Leonar 
do da Vinci, the artist, and Benvenuto Cellini, the wondrous 
worker in metals ? But I am forgetting the beautiful works 
of art that stand all about one here in the open street, wliich 
I stood gazing at in silent admiration. 

In a sort of grand arcade, or " loggia," as it is called, which 
looks like a house with the two lower stories taken out, and 
formed into three great arched porticos, is a broad stone plat- 
form, gained by an ascent of half a dozen broad steps, and in 
it some fine statuary. One of the most prominent is a fine 
colossal bronze, one of Perseus with the head of Medusa ; 
a grand figure executed by Cellini, representing the helmeted 
figure standing with one foot upon the fallen monster, while 
with one hand he holds aloft the decapitated head, and the 
other grasps his sword. The pedestal of this statue is ele- 
gantly ornamented. In each of its four sunken panels are 
small figures of mythological deities. Next comes a marble 
group of a helmeted warrior bearing away a female figure in 
his arms, entitled the Rape of the Sabines, Hercules slaying a 
Centaur, Judith slaying Holofernes, and the Dying Ajax, sup- 
ported by a Greek warrior. There are also six colossal female 
statues, and a couple of grandly-sculptured lions. We were 
full tilt on the way to visit the Uffizi Gallery when these 
groups arrested us, and were a new sensation — sculpture 
after so much painting, and a good preparation for what we 
were to see in that celebrated gallery. 

At our first visit here, impatient, we pressed on to the 
room known as the Tribune, which contains some of the 
greatest works of art in the world. Those that every looker- 
in at a city shop window has seen copies of are here in the 
original. The room is lighted from the top ; but it does not 
appear the most favorable place for an exhibition of these 
great works. First greeting the visitor as he enters the door 



512 TELE GREAT MASTERPIECES. 

is the celebrated Venus de' Medici, one of the most graceful 
and elegant statues in the world, the pure, modest beauty of 
which is wonderful. The easy grace of attitude, the modest 
beauty of the face, and perfect symmetry of the whole figure 
are faultless. Its height, five feet two inches, was less than I 
supposed it would be, and the hands, which are a modern res- 
toration, are bad, as all writers agree. 

The Apollino, another beautiful figure, shows the numerous 
seams in it, where it was joined together, after having been 
broken by a large picture which fell upon it a few years since. 
And the Dancing Fawn is one of those indescribably natural- 
looking and faultless pieces of antique sculpture that makes 
one wonder if we really do have any great sculptors in these 
modern days ; for the position, and every feature, limb, and 
muscle are so faithfully rendered as to make the marble seem 
so endowed with life that it would scarce astonish the specta- 
tor if it continued its agile motions, and assumed a dozen 
other attitudes upon the pedestal. 

Then comes the group of the Wrestlers, admirably exe- 
cuted, and technically and anatomically correct in its sculp- 
tured delineation of straining sinews and swelling muscles. 
The spectator is more than astonished at the wonderful art 
displayed in the well-known figure of the Slave overhearing 
Conspirators while sharpening a knife. It may strike many, 
as it did ourselves, as the best subject possible for the sculp- 
tor's chisel — this listening figure pausing at his work, as if 
just stricken into stone, his attention suddenly arrested while 
at his occupation, the intent, eager, listening look, the natural 
attitude of the figure, the earnestness in the face, and the 
parted lips — all make you think that there is only one thing 
more the artist could have done with his marvellous touch, 
and that was, to have imparted to the figure life and speech, 
for it seems as near a living thing as statue can be. 

We finger long in the Tribune, loath to leave these superb 
creations, that reveal new beauties the longer we gaze upon 
them. On the walls of this room hang works from the pen- 
cils of Titian, Michael Angelo, Andrea del Sarto, Correggio, 



UFFIZI GALLERY. 513 

Guido, and Vandyke. You are surrounded by priceless gems 
of art, the choicest works of the whole Uffizi collection. 
There was Titian's Venus, a marvellously beautiful figure, 
upon the canvas; Del Sarto's Madonna and Child, a grand 
and beautiful painting of most exquisite coloring; Albert 
Diirer's Adoration of the Magi, the heads of the figures mag- 
nificent studies, and grand in their execution; Paul Vero- 
nese's Holy Family ; Raphael's St. John preaching in the 
Desert ; and Guido's Virgin, besides many others. 

And then we wandered, hour after hour, all through this 
wonderful gallery, said to be the richest and most varied in 
the world, though less extensive than the Louvre or Vat- 
ican — twenty-five rooms, besides corridors, vestibules, &c, 
crammed with works of art. Murray says that the original 
collections of the Medici family were dispersed at various 
periods. The collections of Lorenzo the Magnificent were 
sold in 1494, and their palace plundered in 1637 ; but Casi- 
mo I. recovered much of what had belonged to his ancestors, 
and his successors rendered this collection of art what it now 
is — the most interesting in Europe. 

Busts of this Medici family are placed in the vestibule ap- 
proaching the gallery. Here also are bronze statues of Mars 
and Silenus, and an infant Bacchus ; and as you get into the 
vestibule great bronze wolf-dogs guard the door, and huge 
statues of the Roman emperors look down upon you. It 
would be useless to attempt a description of the collection, 
which is divided into selections of different schools of art in 
different rooms. ; 

The corridors are occupied both as sculpture and picture 
galleries. The paintings in them are historical series of the 
Tuscan school, and the statuary a splendid series of busts of 
the Roman emperors, statue of a Gladiator, Apollo, Urania, 
Cupid, Bacchante, &c. ; Michael Angelo's bass-reliefs, and his 
statues of the Drunken Bacchus and Faun; also his Wound- 
ed Adonis and Donatellos, David as the Conqueror of 
Goliah. Then we have a room filled with curious Roman 
33 



514 OLD MASTERS IN BATTALION'S. 

sarcophagi, with curious sculptured bass-reliefs, representing 
their chariot races, gods, and sea-nymphs. 

There is a room full of pictures of the French school of 
art, two of the German and Dutch schools, another of the 
Dutch and Flemish schools, with pictures of Van Ostade and 
Gerard Dow, and two rooms with magnificent pictures of 
the Venetian school, such as Paul Veronese's picture of 
Esther before Ahasuerus, — only think what a grand picture 
this makes, with its crowd of figures, full of life and spirit, — 
Giorgione's Judgment of Solomon, and Tintoretto's Christ 
entering Jerusalem. Then come two other intensely inter- 
esting rooms — autograph portraits of painters, many of 
them painted by themselves. There are Guido and Vandyke, 
Rembrandt, Titian, Tintoretto, Da Vinci, and Michael An- 
gelo, and the portrait of Raphael, which has been so fre- 
quently copied and engraved in pictures, that we recognize it 
instantly, as the eye wanders over the crowded walls. 

There is so much in this Ufiizi gallery to satisfy every vari- 
ety of artistic taste ! Just think, for instance, of the pleasure 
of looking through a whole room full of the original drawings 
of the old masters, with their autographs attached ! Here 
were parts of Michael Angelo's architectural plans, his rough 
sketches in red chalk or charcoal ; Titian's drawings — rude 
outlines, from his portfolio, that on the canvas grew to 
voluptuous beauty; also, those of Rubens, Albei't Diirer, Tin- 
toretto, Del Sarto, and a host of others ; and these that we 
see hung upon the walls are only a mere selection of speci- 
mens from the wealth of this great- collection of original 
sketches, which contains nearly twenty-eight thousand in all. 

But paintings and sculpture are not the only wonders of 
the Uffizi gallery. Coming out of the gallery of original 
drawings, we find a room of medals and coins, containing a 
set of nearly nine thousand imperial medals, a set of coins of 
the mediaeval and modern Italian states, and a set of gold 
florins from as fir back as the year 1252. We could not but 
notice that more than one custodian or official regarded us 
with a curious eye as we wandered from room to room, and 



HALL OF NIOBE. 515 

halted, catalogue in hand, pencilling down, all over its pages, 
the notes from which these pages are written, as if wondering 
whether we were noting down anything that was illegal or 
not, so suspicious do they appear, in these foreign countries, 
of anybody who appears to be taking notes or drawings. 
We loitered all among this surfeit of artistic beauty, through 
the whole of that portion of the day it was open, only to 
find, at last, that we had not seen half of it. So we returned 
to the charge again, note-book in hand, for another day's 
enjoyment. 

On our second visit we stumbled, first on the Etruscan col- 
lection — two rooms full of Etruscan vases and sepulchral 
urns, of ancient make, and very beautifully decorated with 
antique paintings, such as battles of the centaurs, Grecian 
warriors and combats, all very interesting, as giving, in many 
instances, the costumes and manners of the ancient Greeks, 
painted at the time of their existence. There was also a 
very extensive collection of ancient black vases, found in Etru- 
ria, and in the Necropolis of Sarteano, the graceful and ele- 
gant shapes of which form the copies of many of our richest 
and most beautiful vases of modern manufacture. The cel- 
ebrated Medicean vase, or Hadrian vase, which was found in 
Hadrian's villa, near Tivoli, of course claimed our attention, 
and also a curious collection of urns, in which the ancients 
used to enclose the ashes of their dead. 

" Niobe dissolved in tears." How much we have read and 
studied about Niobe, and how writers delight to quote her 
name, especially whenever tears are spoken of! I remem- 
ber getting a thwack at school for pronouncing the name 
of the tearful mother, Nigh-oab, soon after another youngster 
had been corrected for the same blunder. The story of 
Niobe and her children was often taken as a subject by the 
ancient artists, and the most celebrated of the ancient repre- 
sentations was that which filled the temple of Apollo Sosia- 
tins, at Rome, and was found in that city in 1583, and now 
preserved here in a room very properly devoted to it, called the 
Hall of Niobe. The group consists of the mother, who holds 



516 CABINET OF GEMS. 

one of the children upon her lap, while thirteen statues of 
other son? and daughters are grouped about m various atti- 
tudes. It is useless to attempt to convey the impression 
made by such masterly specimens of ancient art — figures 
which may have been shaped by the chisel of Praxiteles, 
certainly by some sculptor who wrought as though he felt he 
was portraying a domestic tragedy he had been an eye- 
witness of, and not a mythological legend. The deep, touch- 
ing grief of the mother, the admirably natural figure of one 
of the dying sons, that almost causes the spectator to rush to 
his aid, — in fact, the whole story is told in marble, and with 
wonderful effect, making a powerful impression upon the 
beholder. 

Turning from this great work of the ancient sculptor's art, 
our eyes fall upon the original, of which we have often seen 
copies, Snyder's painting of the Boar Hunt ; then the spirited 
picture of Henry IV. at the Battle of Ivry, — King Henry 
of Navarre, whom all the school-boys will recollect, from the 
noem which is so popular with them for declamation : — 

" The king has come to marshal us, 
In all his armor dressed, 
And he has bound a snow-white plume 
Upon his gallant crest." 

Another spirited and beautiful figure painting was the En- 
trance of Henry IV. into Paris after the Battle of Ivry. 

Among other riches of this great collection is a cabinet of 
gems, where were a wonderful casket of rock crystal, with 
seventeen compartments, in which were elaborately wrought 
figures representing events of the Passion ; an elegant vase 
of sardonyx, on which Lorenzo de' Medici's name was en- 
graved; another cut out of a solid block of lapis lazuli, &c. 

Then came a great cabinet of ancient bronzes ; and it is 
curious to see how these specimens of antique Grecian art 
— figures, vases, and bass-reliefs — form models for the most 
graceful, popular, and beautiful specimens of artistic work 
and ornament at the present day. In this collection, besides 



MICHAEL ANGELO'S HOUSE. 517 

uie bronze figures of Jupiters, Venuses, and other deities, 
and various beautiful bass-reliefs, discovered in ruined cities, 
we found a most interesting collection of ancient Grecian and 
Roman arms and helmets, candelabra, household utensils, &o- 
Here were spear-heads of Roman legions, that marched mm- 
dreds of years before Christ, the weights and measures of 
artisans, the helmet of the warrior, the bronze brooch of the 
Greek maiden, and the bronze greaves of the Etruscan soldier. 
TL.3 hall of modern bronzes gave us figures by artists of mod- 
ern times, such as Ghiberti's Sacrifice of Abraham, Giovanni 
of Bologna's Mercury, a bust of Cosimo I. by Benvenuto 
Cellini, an angel by Donatello, &c. And all this grand col- 
lection, this wealth of art, where student may study, the 
dreamer may dream, sight-seer may drink his fill, the artist 
educate his taste, and the lover of the beautiful feast to his 
heart's content, is free to all who desire to look upon it. It 
is hard, indeed, to tear one's self away from the treasures that 
are heaped up here ; but there are other sights to be seen, and 
more galleries, and churches, and palaces to be looked at. 

An interesting visit was that made by us to Michael Ange- 
los's house, or the Palazzo Buonarroti, as it is called. It 
belongs to the city, having been bequeathed, with its contents, 
by the great artist's last male relative at his death, and con- 
tains many interesting rtlics, much of the contents and furni- 
ture being kept in the oiiginal position. Here we passed 
through the rooms, which open one out of the other, and havo 
their walls adorned with choice pictures by great painters. 
One room has a series of paintings representing the principal 
events in his life, and another is hung with pictures relative to 
members of the Buonarroti family ; for, be it known to many 
who suppose that Michael Angelo is the entire name of the 
artist, that it was Michael Angelo Buonarroti. He had intended 
before his death, w T hich occurred in Rome, in the ninetieth year 
of his age, to have sent all his personal property to Florence, 
where a house was to have been purchased to receive it ; but 
this was not done; so at his death the Florentine ambassador 
at Rome, acting under instructions, took possession of and 



518 RELICS OF ANGELO. 

forwarded the mementos which we looked upon, and whicl 
are now deposited in this " palace " of the family, which was 
not, as many travellers understand, the last residence he 
occupied previous to his death. That event took place in 
Rome, on the 18th of February, 1564 ; and on the 11th of 
March following his body was returned to his native city of 
Florence, after thirty years of voluntary exile, and entombed 
in the Church of Santa Croce. 

Around one of the rooms in this interesting mansion hung 
drawings and sketches by the great artist's own hand, and in 
another were various models in plaster, wax, and terra cotta, 
of portions of his great works ; also of his own make, such as 
a model in wax of his statue of David, a bass-relief of the 
Descent from the Cross, &c. ; then we were shown, in a little 
boudoir, a collection of his plans and drawings, including his 
pencil sketch of the Last Judgment, painted for the Sistine 
Chapel ; also several interesting manuscripts, and other auto- 
graphic memorials, and the little oil-cups, flasks, and other 
utensils that he used in work upon painting. 

In a little side-room, scarcely larger than a closet, we were 
shown a table at which he was said to write, and from one 
of the drawers were taken the slippers which he used to wear, 
and which we were reverently permitted to handle ; nor was 
this all; his two walking-sticks, with crutched handles, and 
the sword worn at his side on great occasions, and other in- 
teresting personal relics, were exhibited. This room is desig- 
nated, by the guide, " Michael Angelo's Study," though when 
he studied there the guide was unable to communicate ; still 
we had seen enough personal mementos of the great artist to 
render our visit interesting enough not to cavil at trifles ; and 
there being no question of the authenticity of the relics, we 
allowed the guide to communicate harmless little factions 
regarding the house unquestioned. 

First of all the churches in Florence we visit the mag- 
nificent Duomo, or Cathedral, Santa Maria del Fiore, tne 
magnificent swelling dome of which is a prominent and im- 
posing object in all the views of the city seen from the snr- 



THE DUOMO. 519 

rounding heights. Notwithstanding the numerous grand 
architectural wonders I had looked upon, each new one, even 
after six months of sight-seeing, excites admiration and in- 
terest. These vast piles of architectural beauty, the wealth 
of artistic execution in their sculpture, grand conception, skill 
in grouping pillars and arches, taste in decoration, and withal 
the overwhelming vastness and grandeur of these great raon- 
ximents of the old cathedral-builders, can but have an effect 
even upon the most ordinary perception. 

This great cathedral was commenced in 1298, and was one 
hundred and sixty years in building, employing, during that 
time, many of the most celebrated of architects in its con- 
struction, and serving as a model, or rather giving Angelo 
his ideas, for the model of St. Peter's at Rome. The cathedral 
appears built of marble, and as you enter from the bright 
glare of an Italian sun into its cool interior, and upon the 
tessellated jDavement of rich marbles, seems dark and sombre. 
This is accounted for, in some degree, by the small size of the 
windows, and the deep color of the rich stained glass with 
which they are filled ; this glass is said to have been made in 
1434, and is superb, both in color and designs. 

The first view we had down the four great arches of the 
nave was grand, and the distance seemed more than it really 
is ; but then fancy the size of a cathedral the height of whose 
nave is over one hundred and fifty feet. This great Duomo 
is five hundred feet long, the top of its cross, three hundred 
and eighty-seven feet from the ground, and its transepts are 
three hundred and six feet in length ; the height even of the 
little side-aisles is nearly a hundred feet. Above all looms 
the great cupola, about one hundred and forty feet in diame- 
ter, and one hundred and thirty-three feet high, which is ex- 
tremely grand and beautiful. Its interior is painted in fresco, 
with figures of angels, saints, Paradise and Purgatory. 

The grand altar is directly under this great dome, and 
belli' id it is an unfinished group, representing the Entomb- 
ment by Michael Angelo. Around the sides of the church 
were tombs and monuments, which our guide would gladly 



t)20 THE CAMPANILE. 

have explained to us seriatim ; but to make them Interesting 
required a more intimate knowledge of Italian history than 
we are willing to claim; but we did stop opposite the bust 
of Giotto, whose skill was called into operation in building a 
large portion of the cathedral ; the tomb of Antonio d' Orso, 
a bishop, who, when the city was besieged, called around him 
officers of the church, and, in full armor, manned the walls 
against the enemy; and the picture of Dante, upon one of the 
walls, in red robe, with laurel crown on his head and book in 
hand, familiar from the engraving we have so often seen of it. 
A climb up, to view the marvellous beauty of the great dome, 
gave us not only a good idea of its vastness, — it being the 
largest cupola in the world, — but also a superb view out 
towards Fiesole. 

The Campanile, or bell tower, situated quite near the 
cathedral, is an elegant structure of Grecian architecture, 
square in form, with beautiful Gothic windows, and is built 
of light-colored marble, and adorned with rich sculptured work 
. and decoration ; four hundred and fourteen steps carry you 
to the summit, the height being two hundred and seventy- 
five feet. We took another view here of the country, also at 
the symmetrical dome of the cathedral close at hand, inspected 
the six huge bells that are swung up here, and descended to 
view the two statues of the artists of the cathedral, which are 
placed in the square. That of one of them has a plan of the 
cupola upon his lap, from which he is looking up at the cathe- 
dral itself as completed. 

The superb Baptistery of St. Giovanni, of whose bronze 
doors we had heard so much, was close at hand, and next 
claimed our attention. It is built of black and white marble, 
and the chief beauty inside, which is a regular octagon, is 
the splendid Corinthian columns and the beautiful mosaics 
in the cupola. The floor is paved with black and white 
marble, in most curious, complicated, and elegant designs. 
But the great attraction of the building is its splendid bronze 
doors. Michael Angel o's speech about them is inserted in 
everj guide-book, and repeated by every cicerone who shows 



CHURCH OF SAKTA CROCK. 521 

them. He said they were worthy of being the gates oi Para- 
dise ; and as no tourist's description would be complete without 
the expression, I have here introduced it. They are, indeed, 
wonderful and elaborate works of art. One contains groups 
of figu? es, wrought out of the bronze, representing scenes in 
the life of St. John in the upper compartments, and allegori- 
cal figures of the Virtues in the lower. This is the gate 
completed in 1330, and the Florentines do not seem to take 
great care of its beauty, for the figures were sadly filled up 
with dust and dirt, and needed a most thorough cleansing 
when we saw them. The other two are filled with scenes 
from the Scriptures, such as the Creation of Man, Noah 
after the Deluge, Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon, Esau 
selling his Birthright, &c. The execution of all these fig- 
ures is marvellous; and we are told these portals, which are 
not, as may be supposed, of large size, were the result of forty 
years of patient labor on the part of the artist (Ghiberti) 
employed upon them. The work seems such as would be 
more in place, however, upon a casket or smaller surface than 
the doors of a church, being too elaborate for such a position, 
and spread over too much surface to receive the careful 
examination which their merit requires. 

The most noted church in Florence is that of the Santa 
Croce, founded in 1294, and celebrated as being the burial- 
place of many great Italians — Angel o, Galileo, Machiavelli, 
and others. But whoever exjjects that the cathedral mauso- 
leum of these illustrious ashes is one of architectural gran- 
deur will be somewhat disappointed, as he comes to a huge, 
ungainly brick structure, which seems utterly umvorthy to 
enclose the illustrious dead that have been interred within its 
walls. The interior, lighted by stained glass windowc, con- 
tains many interesting monuments — Angelo's, with his bust 
and allegorical statues of Painting, Sculpture, and Architec- 
ture ; a huge monument to Dante, with the genius of Poetry 
deploring his death; that to Machiavelli, with an allegorical 
figure of History; a monument to Alfieri, executed by 
Canova. 



522 MICHAEL ANGEIO'S STATUARY. 

There are monuments to various great scholars, naturalists, 
and historians — Galileo ; Lami, a Florentine historian ; Tar- 
gioni, a great chemist ; an elegant one to Leonardi Bruni, a 
great scholar, who died in 1444 ; Michele, a great botanist ; 
Nobili, a philosopher, &c. At one end of this church, which is 
four hundred and sixty feet long and one hundred and thirty- 
four wide, is a series of chapels, rich in frescoes, paintings, and 
other works of art, among which we find the usual scriptural 
paintings, such as Assumption of the Virgin ; Coronation of 
the A -rgin ; Madonna and Child ; also fine frescoes by Giotto. 
The Nicolini Chapel is elegantly decorated with marbles, 
and contains fine statuary, including noble figures of Moses 
and Aaron, and various allegorical figures ; and so we wander 
from one chapel to another, gazing at frescoes and paintings, 
bass-reliefs, monuments, and ornamental carvings, till sated 
with art and fatigued with gazing. 

The Church of San Lorenzo we must visit, to view the 
wonders it contains in monuments from Angelo's chisel. In 
the new sacristy of this church, which is a monumental chapel 
designed by Michael Angelo, are his two great marble monu- 
ments, one to Lorenzo, father of Catherine de' Medici, and the 
other to Giuliano de' Medici. Each of these monuments is a 
casket or sarcophagus supported by two colossal reclining 
figures on each side, and surmounted above by colossal 
statues of the deceased in armor, seated, with a background 
of pillars, cornice, and elegant architectural design. The two 
colossal reclining figures on Lorenzo's tomb are called "Day" 
and " Night," and those on Giuliano's " Morning " and " Even- 
ing." All of these four figures were of wonderful power, and 
make a strong impression on the spectator; but there are two 
more. 

Upon the top of Giuliano's tomb sits his statue, that of a 
Roman general partly clad in armor, with a truncheon lying 
across his lap, and his head tinned on one side, as if thought- 
fully gazing at something in the distance. On Lorenzo's sits 
a figure we recognize instantly as one we have seen a hun- 
dred times in bronze, in shop windows, and upon marble 



FLOEENTINE MOSAICS. 523 

clock tops; bitv did we ever recognize in the base copies the 
marvellous beauty and the grandeur of expression seen in the 
original ? A man in full armor, seated, absorbed in thought, 
his face renting upon his hand, and that face beneath his over- 
shadowing helm, so full of deep, quiet, meditative thought, 
that you involuntarily wait for a play of the features to reveal 
the deep, calm workings of the great mind behind it. The 
whole attitude of the figure is unstudied, graceful, and natural 
— the most natural attitude of a great warrior absorbed in 
profound meditation. It was hard to tear yourself away 
from quiet, wondrous admiration of this superb statue. 

The first thing one inquires for on shopping excursions in 
Florence is the Florentine mosaics, those ingenious specimens 
of painting in colored stone, in breast-pins, bracelets, or sleeve 
buttons. As all know, these mosaic pictures are made by 
joining together small pieces of stone of the natural color 
into figures of flowers, fruits, animals, and birds, the stone be- 
ing first sawed by fine saws into very thin veneers, and the 
design fitted upon a background of polished slate. These 
differ from the Roman mosaic, inasmuch as the color of the 
latter is artificial ; the workmanship of the Florentine is also 
more elegant. Tourists are apt here, as elsewhere on the 
continent, to be imposed upon by venders of cheap and spuri- 
ous imitations of originals, and will find that the really beauti- 
ful and artistic ones, although surprisingly cheap in compari- 
son with the prices charged in America, cost a tolerably good 
sum, for the manufacture of them is tedious, requiring much 
care and patience. Besides, there were so many American 
tourists, before the present war, constantly passing through 
Florence, as to make a constant good, fair retail demand for 
them. Cheap ones could be purchased from two to ten francs 
each, of course unmounted, while the price of the more 
beautiful ranged from fifteen to sixty francs. We purchased 
an elegant one for a lady's pin at forty-five, which, as usual, 
was marked fifty, and which a native might possibly have 
bought for forty. The difference in the price of Italian and 
American labor was discovered ia the price charged by a 



524 MEDICEAN CHAPEL. 

Boston jeweller in setting up this bauble in the plainest possi- 
ble style, which nearly trebled its price. 

After having visited the mosaic shops, the tourist is, in a 
measure, prepared for the elaborate specimens of the art 
which are exhibited in the construction of the Medicean 
Chapel, which is attached to the Church of San Lorenzo, and 
which is the most extravagant and costly interior of its kind 
that can possibly be imagined. It is a huge octagonal room, 
surmounted by a beautiful cupola elegantly painted in fresco : 
the scenes are of various scriptural subjects, such as Adam 
and Eve, the crucifixion, resurrection, last judgment, &c. 

The lofty sides of this chapel or costly mausoleum, to the 
grand ducal family, are completely sheathed in the richest mar- 
bles, elegantly polished jasper and chalcedony, glittering agate 
of different colors, malachite, and lapis lazuli. All around, ris- 
ing tier above tier, are sarcophagi and cenotaphs of the Medici, 
wrought from the richest and costliest stone, polished to a 
mirror-like surface, and decorated with unparalleled richness. 
At different points in the walls were the armorial bearings of 
different families, the shields, the richest and most beautiful 
Florentine mosaic work imaginable, even carnelian and coral 
being employed in some of the coats to give the proper shad- 
ings to the elegant emblematical designs. The sarcophagi 
are inscribed each with the name of the illustrious personage 
whose ashes they represent the casket of, the remains of the 
different grand dukes being deposited in a crypt below this 
chapel. A representation of a large cushion, upon which 
rests the ducal crown, all carved from colored stone, is a most 
wonderful work of art, and the beautiful tomb of Cosimo II., 
by John of Bologna, rich and elegant. This wondrous funeral 
chamber, in costly marble, sparkling with precious stones and 
elegant decorations, is said to have cost over seventeen mil- 
lions of dollars, and, as a distinguished writer remarks, "re- 
calls our youthful visions of Aladdin's palace." 

He who takes pleasure in visiting old churches and cathe- 
drals may keep tolerably busy for many days, even weeks, 
in Florence ; as for ourselves, we found the plethora of scrip- 



UNPOPULARITY OF THE PEIEST8. 525 

tural pictures, architectural effects, and wondrous carvings, 
me.norial cenotaphs, and historical relics was beginning to 
work confusion in our mind, and destroy the pleasant effect 
of those already viewed ; it was, therefore, not without reluc- 
tance that we gave up our design of seeing all the churches in 
Florence ; indeed, we cannot undertake, in the space of these 
pages, to attempt description of all that we did see in this 
city, so crammed with objects of interest to the lover of art 
or enthusiastic tourist. The old church and convent of San 
Marco, with its pictures by Fra Angelico, and its convent, 
into which no female tourist is admitted ; Santa Maria Novella, 
full of pictures and frescoes ; Santo Spirito and others, will 
give the traveller all he wants of the wonders of Florence's 
religious edifices, and he may also find, as we did, that there 
is apparently more thoroughly honest support, or we may 
say blind attachment, to the Romish church by its adherents 
in the city of New York, than in this Roman Catholic Italian 
city. The better portion of the common people have lost 
respect for the idle priests by whom they have been sur- 
rounded, and several with whom we conversed did not hesi- 
tate to express their hopes in favor of Garibaldi, and that he 
might ere long " drive out the pope from Rome, who ought 
to wield no temporal power." 

The carriage-driver, who drove us about to various sacred 
edifices, and who spoke French tolerably, bent his knee 
reverently when passing the high altar, but, on finding the 
portals of one church closed, left, with not very pious ejacula- 
tions, to find the attendant priest to admit us, vowing that 
they did more eating than kneeling, more drinking than pray- 
ing, and were of more injury than service to Italy. Rather 
strong expressions these appeared to us from an Italian 
Romanist, in one of the strongholds of the church ; but judg- 
ing from recent accounts from Rome, some of this pious indi- 
vidual's wishes respecting the head of the church appear like- 
ly to be gratified. 

The surfeit of art in Florence fairly confounds the Amer- 
ican tourist who has any taste that way, and who hag r*v 



526 PITTl PALACE. 

solved to give, in his fashion of reckoning, the liberal time of 
eight or ten days to seeing the city and its treasures. The 
splendid Pitti Palace contains a better collection of paintings, 
as a whole, than the Uffizi Gallery. They are also well ar- 
ranged ; and O, boon to sight-seers ! chairs and sofas are 
placed in various places, where one may rest the tired limbs 
and aching vertebrae. 

Besides vestibules, corridors, &c, there are fifteen grand 
! i alls, named from the heathen deities, and each elegantly dec- 
orated in great frescoes on the ceiling, illustrative of the deity 
for which it is named. Thus the Hall of Mars has its ceiling 
decorated with battle scenes, and allegorical figures of War, 
Peace, and Victory. The Hall of Jupiter has a grand paint- 
ing of Hercules presenting some other individual to the 
Thunderer, and the Hall of the Iliad has scenes from the 
Homeric poem. 

Here, in the Hall of Venus, we saw great views of coast 
scenery from Salvator Rosa's pencil, Titian's Marriage of St. 
Catherine, and splendid landscapes from the industrious brush 
of Rubens. 

In the Hall of Apollo are a splendid Bacchus by Guido, a 
Virgin and Child by Murillo, portraits by Raphael and Rem- 
brandt. 

In the Hall of Mars are Andrea del Sarto's Joseph and his 
Brethren, two pictures of great beauty — Guido's Rebekah 
at the Well, a St. Peter, also by Guido ; and here also is an- 
other one of those celebrated pictures, known the world over 
from the engravings of it that are distributed by thousands 
throughout Christendom — the Madonna del Seggiola, or Sit- 
ting Madonna, the Mother seated with the infant Saviour in 
lier arms, and infant St. John at her side. The rare beauty 
of these little infantile forms, and sweet, holy, motherly ex- 
pression of the mother's face, the lovely tenderness of the at- 
titude, and withal, the wondrous expression of beauty upon 
the children's faces, one can only see in the painting, fbr no 
idea of its artistic power can be had from any engraving I 
ever saw. 



HALLS OF THE GODS. 527 

In the Hail of Jupiter the Three Fates by Michael Angelo, 
a picture of great power, at once arrests the attention, and a 
grand and beautiful figure of St. Mark, by Fra Bartolomeo, is 
a creation one can almost bow in reverence to. Then there 
is a portrait of a lady with a book, painted by Leonardo da 
Vinci, which excites admiration by its exquisite coloring an 1 
lovely beauty. In this room is a large picture of an animated 
and somewhat singular scene by Rubens, which is described 
in the catalogues as nymphs assailed by satyrs, in which the 
latter are behaving in a manner so disagreeable that you long 
to get at the lecherous rascals with a bayonet or a cowhide. 

The Hall of Saturn contains some of Raphael's finest pro- 
ductions. Prominent among them is the Madonna del Bal- 
dachino, in which she is represented enthroned, seated at the 
summit of a flight of steps at the end of a temple, and be- 
neath a canopy which is being drawn aside by two angels. 
Four church dignitaries in their robes stand at the foot of the 
throne, near which are two angels. The picture is of interest/ 
apart from its beauty, as being one of the earlier works of the 
great artist. Among his other pictures in this hall are the 
portrait of Pope Julius II., a superb piece of coloring, his 
portrait of a Cardinal, and the Vision of Ezekiel. 

Another fine picture of the Virgin Enthroned is in the Hall 
of the Iliad, painted by Fra Bartolomeo. Here also are two 
pictures of the Assumption by Del Sarto, a full-length portrait 
of Philip II. of Spain by Titian, Carlo Dolce's St. John the 
Evangelist and St. Martha, a noble figure of a Warrior by 
Salvator Rosa, a Holy Family by Rubens, and Susanna and 
the Elders, a fine composition, by Guercino. 

Next comes the Hall of Jupiter, and in this the pictures of 
the rarest merit are Fra Bartolomeo's Holy Family, Raphael's 
lovely painting of the Madonna and Child, and Carlo Dolce's 
painting of St. Andrew. 

The Hall of Ulysses is rich in pictures from the pencils of 
Carlo Dolce, Salvator Rosa, Andrea del Sarto, Rubens, Titian, 
and Tintoretto. 

The Hall of Piometheus, besides holy families, virgins, and 



5^8 TREASURES OF THE PALACE. 

saints by the great masters, shows us magnificent tables of 
Florentine mosaic of immense value, and the cabinets and 
corridor adjoining have a large collection of choice articles of 
vertu, cabinet paintings, and a grand colossal bust of the first 
Napoleon by Canova. 

Then there is the Hall of Justice, with its complement of 
paintings, including Sir Peter Lely's portrait of Oliver Crom- 
well ; the Hall of Flora, containing the statue of Canova's 
Venus — an exquisite piece of sculpture, grace and beauty in 
every line of its form. Other halls and cabinets, which I will 
not tire the reader's patience by enumerating, bat each of 
which was rich with gems of art, the choicest of the great 
masters. 

Not only were the walls, which were hung with thuse treas- 
ures, of interest, but the frescoes on the ceilings of the grand 
apartments, which were superbly executed. The gods and 
goddesses of heathen mythology, and allegorical figures, 
crowded the space above — an army of wondrous giants, 
attracting the visitor's gaze upwards till both neck and spine 
are weary. The costly mosaic tables are wrought with fig- 
ures of birds, fruit, and flowers, and their value is measured 
Dy tens of thousands of dollars. Then we have bronzes and 
statuary, elegant miniatures, Sevres vases, carvings, and arti- 
cles of vertu, making the whole of this beautiful palace one 
treasure-house of art. Attached to the palace are the beauti- 
ful Boboli Gardens, with their picturesque walks and arbors, 
elegant statues, plashing fountains, and grand groups of 
statuary, wonderful plants, beautiful vistas of embowered 
waiks, and magnificent terraces and vases, which will tempt 
one for hours with their picturesque beauty. 

Determined to feast our fill of fine art, we also visited the 
Academy of Fine Arts — an interesting collection of beauti- 
ful pictures, ancient and modem, forming in itself one of the 
great attractions of Florence, to say nothing of the interest- 
ing antiquities of the Egyptian Museum, the literary curiosi- 
ties of the Laurentian Library, or the wonders of the great 
Museum of Natural History. 



THE CASCINE. 52S» 

Of course we wandered through the streets of Florence, 
visited Doney's celebrated cafe in a broad street, which at five 
in the afternoon is nearly shielded from the sun by the shade 
from the tall buildings ; and then it is that the young men, 
the young bloods of the city, begin to come down to the cafes 
for their daily lounge, and ladies and gentlemen to eat the 
luxurious ices and delicious confectionery, and watch the 
strollers. Out-of-door life becomes quite brisk at from five to 
sisr, and everybody seems riding and walking, and they keep 
up the latter, as we found, till a late hour of the night; for 
the windows of the room of our hotel, looking upon one of 
the great streets, gave us the full benefit of that unceasing 
clatter of feet, that lasts in these places till long after the 
noise of vehicles has ceased, and the Campanile bells begin to 
chime the first hours of morning. 

We found the Cascine a delightful resort of a pleasant 
September afternoon. This is a beautifully laid out park 
along the banks of the River Arno, where a pleasant ramble 
may be had beneath the deep shade of forest trees and on 
velvety-green turf. But the chief attraction in the afternoon 
is the drive along its great carriage roads, to view the nume: 
ous equipages of every nationality and description that fre- 
quent them. It is really an interesting study to view the solid 
old establishments of English residents, with driver and foot- 
men, the young English bloods driving those heavily-timbered 
vehicles of theirs, which they seem to have invented for the 
purpose of taking their valets out to ride, and showing the 
neatness of their livery, the length of their whips, and the 
points of the horse attached to the clumsy gundalow. Then 
thete were beautiful coroneted barouches, of great taste and 
elegance, officers in rich uniforms on horseback, and crowds 
of pedestrians — an ever-shifting, ever-changing scene. To 
get views of enchanting beauty, pictures in Italian sunshine, 
ride up the hill, and past the beautiful private residences, till 
you reach Fiesole Fortress, a thousand feet above Florence, 
where you may look down upon its roofs and spires, the sur- 
rounding country, the luxuriant gardens of the private villas, 
34 



530 POWERS THE SCULPTOR. 

upon the hill-side, the winding Arno, and the peaks of the 
Apennines in the distance. 

The grounds of private residences and villas just out of 
Florence were invisible from the road, by reason of the high 
walls which surround them ; and it is only after we really leave 
the city behind that we get fair eye-sweep of these delight- 
ful p] aces, which add so much to the attractiveness of the 
outskirts. We chanced to be in Florence in the grape sea- 
son, and the heaps of this luxurious fruit that were piled up 
in the market-places were pleasant to look upon — Muscats, 
Bweetwaters, black Hamburgs — great, luscious bunches ! 
Half a dozen cents would buy a lapful of them. Then 
there were peaches, piles of figs and pomegranates, and 
other fruits. The Italian flower girls, whom we have read 
of so often, and seen so romantically represented in pictures, 
are, in reality, bold, hard-featured women, with nothing pic- 
turesque or pretty about them, persistent in their importuni- 
ties, and often with gaunt want written in their features. 
They are most numerous on the Cascine, when the band 
plays, offering their bouquets at the carriage windows and to 
passers by. 

But we must leave Florence and its attractions, not, how- 
ever, without a kind hand-grasp with Hiram Powers, the 
American sculptor, who, although he has lived in Italy thirty 
years, is as loyal and true an American as one new come to 
Florence. His beautiful statues of California, Faith, Hope, 
Charity, the Greek Slave, &c, in various stages of work, 
from the rough ashler to the perfectly developed figure, and 
all the departments of the sculptor's work-shop, were shown 
to us by the great artist in working cap and apron, for he de- 
lights to meet his fellow-countrymen, though I fear they must 
make sad inroads upon his time during the travelling season ; 
this, however, may be compensated for, in a degree, by orders 
received for copies of his works from visitors. The beautiful 
busts of the Faith, Hope, and Charity figures are popular 
with those who wish to preserve a specimen of the great 
sculptor's work, and can afford one hundred guineas to grat- 
ify their taste in that direction. 



TOWER OF J^ISA. 531 



CHAPTER XIV. 

One of the earliest pictures of scenes in foreign lands (hat 
I remember to have looked upon, was the Leaning Tower at 
Pisa; this and the renowned Porcelain Tower at Pekin always 
came in for a good share of wonder and speculation; the 
latter, when a boy, I firmly believed to be built of precisely 
similar material as that of the tea set of a certain aunt in the 
country, which she only paraded on state occasions, and which 
being thin, delicate, and translucent, no piece was intrusted 
to my juvenile fingers, which were only permitted to embrace 
a china mug that appeared amazingly cheap in comparison. 

That old picture, in the geography, of the Leaning Tower, 
which awakened a desire to set it never to be extinguished, is 
like dozens of other similar wood-cuts, which make an indelible 
impression upon the mind of youth, and you feel, when gaz- 
ing upon the reality for the first time, like greeting an old 
acquaintance ; or rather the impression is like the first personal 
introduction to a correspondent whom you have known many 
years only by letter. 

Though the general form and appearance of the Leaning 
Tower of Pisa were familiar in my mind, I was not prepared 
for the surprisingly graceful beauty of the structure, which is 
of white marble; and though it was built nearly seven hun- 
dred years ago, it is remarkably clear and fresh-looking. The 
very decided lean is at once observable on approaching it; 
indeed, you experience something of an uncomfortable sensa- 
tion on being at the side where it appears to be ready to fall. 
Its beauty consists in its being a perfect cylinder of fifty-three 
feet in diameter, and one hundred and seventy-nine feet high ; 
this great cylinder being formed of eight regular tiers of 
columns, supporting graceful arches, one aboA e the other, and 
forming as many open marble galleries running round the 



t>32 FOUR WONDERS OP PISA. 

tower, the whole surmounted with a graceful open-arched 
tower or belfry, giving it the appearance of a tall marbie 
column sculptured into circles of open arches and pillars. 

We started for the summit an easy ascent of two hundred 
and ninety-five steps, occasionally going out upon the outside 
galleries, which project some seven or eight feet on each 
stoiy, till we reach the belfry, where seven bells are hung, 
the largest weighing nearly twelve thousand pounds ; this 
tower, as is Avell-known, being the companile, or bell-tower, 
of the cathedral close at hand. A few moments among the 
bells, and we climb above them to the summit of the tower, 
where the iron rail that protects the edge is grasped nervous- 
ly as we approach and look over the leaning side, wherei 
without its aid, the feeling is, that one would. positively slip 
off from the slant; indeed, a glance downward and at the 
tower itself, from this point, produces a terrific sensation, — 
that it is slowly moving from the perpendicular on its course 
to the earth below. It is, therefore, quite natural that most 
tourists should take their views of the surrounding country 
from the top of the Leaning Tower, as we did, from its up- 
per side. 

The view from the summit is very fine, taking in the city 
of Pisa directly beneath, the surrounding country, distant 
mountains, and hill-sides, with beautiful villas and vineyards. 
Far ofi" in the distance, in one direction, we saw the blue 
waters of the Mediterranean, twelve miles and more away, 
heaving in the sunshine, with the white sails of ships gliding 
upon its bosom, and the city of Leghorn at its shore, with 
the masts of the vessels in port, and its light-house, all dis- 
tinctly visible. After a thorough enjoyment of the scene, 
we descended to view the cathedral, Campo Santc and 
Baptistery. 

Here, in one grand square, within a stone's throw of each 
other, are the four wonders of Pisa; the great Duomo, 01 
cathedral, the Baptistery, the Campo Santo, and the Leaning 
Tower — standing in a magnificent group by themselves in 
the open space, rendering all else near them shrunken, petty, 



THE DUOMO. &3H 

and insignificant by their beauty and superb finish. These 
glorious structures seem like the newly-created "wonders of 
some magical workman, who has placed them here together 
in the quiet old city for the tourists of all nations to come 
and gaze upon, admire, wonder, and dejDart. 

The cathedral is an elegant specimen of beautiful architeo 
ture in marble. Like all buildings of the kind, it is built in 
the form of a Latin cross, and is three hundred and eleven 
feet long in the nave and two hundred and thirty-eight in the 
transepts. The height of the building is one hundred and 
twelve feet, and above its first story rises a series of pillars 
supporting arches, the last two of a series of four, when the 
facade is viewed from the squai-e, making the building to look 
like a square structure lifting a Grecian temple into the air 
upon its lofty walls, or like an end view of that ideal picture 
that used to be delineated as Solomon's Temple in the old 
family Bibles. 

The great dome rises from the centre, surrounded by a 
Ting of eighty-eight pillars supporting an elegant ring of 
pointed work above them, and surmounted by a cupola. 
Inside the scene is elegant; the great centre nave, over forty 
feet wide, with twenty-four Corinthian columns of red granite, 
twelve on a side, and each one a single block of stone, twenty- 
five feet high, on a great pedestal over six feet high, and 
above these another series of columns, smaller and more 
numerous, forming the upper cloister corridor, or "Nuns 
Walk," as they call it in the old English cathedrals, all lift- 
ing the grand roof ninety feet above the pavement. 

In the centre, on four great arches, rises the grand dome, 
richly decorated ; on either side are the aisles, their roof sup- 
ported by fifty Corinthian columns, while above, the roof 
gleams with mosaics set in golden ground-work. On every 
side are interesting works of art which will attract the atten- 
tion ; elegant paintings, among them those of Andrea del 
Sarto ; the high altar, a rich structure in costly- wrought mar- 
ble, the flowers, running vines, and chiselled cherubs beauti- 
ful to look upon ; the rich carved wood- work of the stalls, "id 



534 Galileo's lamp. 

the choir ; the stained-glass windows ; the rich frescoes of the 
cupola; elegant monuments, statues, and beautiful chapels, 
with their rich altars and paintings, all contribute to render 
the interior elegant and attractive. At one end of the nave, 
as we were passing out, we were shown the great bronze 
chandelier, suspended from the roof by a cable nearly eighty 
feet long, the regular swaying of which is said to have sug- 
gested the theory of the pendulum to Galileo. 

"What ! " said I to the guide, " is this the very lamp ? " 

" The very same, monsieur." 

" But it appears too huge, too heavy to swing." 

" Ah, monsieur, it moves quite easily." 

But I was an unbelieving Thomas ; so, lingering behind 
the group, when the guide's back was turned, I reached up, 
and with my umbrella gave the lower part of the great bronze a 
strong push. Down came a shower of dust from the creases of 
the great cable; the huge lamp began a grand, majestic swing, 
and I was ready to exclaim, in the words of the great mathe- 
matician himself, " Yet it moves ; " and it did " move quite 
easily," continued its oscillations, back and forth, to such an 
extent that I thought it safe to move myself at once from 
beneath the huge pendule, which I did forthwith, quite satis- 
fied that it swung for Galileo, and might come down for 
myself. 

This Duomo was completed in the year 1118, and the bap- 
tistery, which we next visited, was founded in 1253, as an in- 
scription upon it informed us. It seems that a cathedral in 
those early days, notwithstanding its vast size, generally had a 
superb tower erected for its bells, — a structure by itself, — and 
another of grand porportions for the baptism and christening 
of children. The baptistery here at Pisa is a perfectly round 
building, of marble, looking like a great cathedral dome set 
upon the ground ; but it is a dome one hundred and seventy- 
nine feet high and one hundred feet diameter inside the walls, 
which are nearly nine feet thick. 

The exterior above the first story is surrounded by rings 
of elegant pillars and pointed pediments. The whole of the 



THE BAPTISTERY. 53b 

interior seems sheathed with polished marble, so exquisitely 
matched and joined as to appear almost seamless. You 
stand, as it were, in a huge dome, hollowed out of marble. 
A grand circular font, fourteen feet in diameter, stands in the 
centre. We saw here the magnificently carved pulpit, exe- 
cuted by Nicolo Pisano, in 1260. It is hexagon in form, 
supported by seven pillars, which, in turn, are supported by 
sculptured figures of lions, griffins, &c. But it is the sculp- 
tures in bass-relief upon its sides that are most wonderful, 
from their elaborate detail, which must have cost an age of 
patience and labor in their execution. They represent the 
Nativity, Adoration of the Magi, Crucifixion, Last Judgment, 
&c. The echoes in this circular baptistery are something 
quite remarkable. The guide, a fellow with a musical tenor 
voice, sang a note or two, and it came back to us " a whole 
gamut filled with heavenly notes." Another sang a bar, 
primo basso, and the polished walls returned it, like the mel- 
lowed peals of a full-voiced organ. This magical music was 
as charming as novel, and an extemporaneous concert was 
enjoyed here before leaving. 

We next go over to the Campo Santo, or Holy Field, 
which renowned cemetery is enclosed by cloisters opening 
into the holy ground, the fronts of these cloisters facing the 
open space of the interior being arched and roofed over, 
forming a covered promenade in the form of a parallelogram, 
the whole enclosure being four hundred and fifteen feet long 
and one hundred and thirty-seven wide. The centre, within 
the cloister enclosure, was open overhead. The earth here, 
it will be remembered, every handful of it for I do not know 
how many feet deep, came from Mount Calvary, being brought 
by a prelate whom that fierce and powerful Saracen, Sal- 
adin, expelled from his dominions about the year 1200, and 
who, compelled to eat dirt, revenged himself by carrying off 
fifty or sixty ship-loads of it. It was deposited here, made 
holy ground, and duly consecrated ; and to make the burial 
lots go off more lively, probably, the story was given out — 
which is still told — that the earth had the property of 



b36 CAMPO SANTO. 

reducing dead bodies to dust in twenty-four hours. Of 
course, the rush to get in — or rather, of friends to gd their 
decease .1 relatives in — was great. Only great people could 
come down with their dust, and very seldom is it that any 
interments are made here now. One would naturally sup- 
pose that a burial-ground of these dimensions would become 
a little crowded in six hundred and seventy years, unless 
population was sparse, and some restrictions were made. 

The covered arcade, or arched cloisters, which extend 
around the sides forty-six feet high, and thirty-four feet wide 
contain many interesting monuments. Among them we 
noticed Count Cavour's, and one to Madame Catalani, the 
singer, and a monument to the Countess Beatrice. 

The walls of the cloisters are celebrated for their frescoes, 
many of which are fine specimens of the art, but all more or 
less injured by the action of dampness or the air. The sub- 
jects are from Scripture, or monkish legends. The most 
noted and striking is the Triumph of Death, in which the 
grisly king of terrors is allegorically brought before the 
spectator in a most striking manner, in various ways, such as 
the exhibition of three coffins, and their ghastly tenants, as a 
warning to three kings ;, Death swooping down, scythe in 
hand, upon a party of youths and maidens ; kings, warriors, 
and prelates yielding to the fell destroyer, and angels and 
demons bearing their souls off in different directions. 

Reaching Spezzia at nine P. M., after a day's sight-seeing 
in Pisa, gave us little time to do else than to obtain much- 
needed refreshment, look at a beautiful moonlight view of the 
harbor, and engage a private travelling carriage for our jour- 
ney over the Apennines next morning. At six o'clock we 
started, and as we gradually left the city behind, on our rising 
road, had a fine sunrise view of its beautiful harbor, with 
English French, and American vessels at anchor, with then 
national flags flying. The scenery among these mountains 
differs from that of Switzerland. The mour^ains themselves 
seem of a golden bronze color in the sunlight, from the color 
of the earth, which seems to be a sort of Spanish brown. 



OVEE THE APENNINES. 537 

And again, there are long ranges and graceful peaks, the 
sides of which are clad in light verdure, but no trees, which 
appear to be of a delicate ppa-green, shaded with rich red, 
brown, and bronze, from the color of the rock and earth. 
There were great ranges of mountains, stretching off in the 
distance, like fading sunset clouds, transformed into moun 
tains — a most beautiful effect. 

Up we went, by the zigzags of the mountain road, sur- 
rounded by superb scenery of hill, and crag, and distant 
range, till finally we came in sight of the great Mediterra- 
nean, thousands of feet below us, flecked with the white sails 
of ships and boats in every direction. Far on the extreme 
edge of its blue plain crept a steamer, leaving a long trail of 
smoke behind, like a dark serpent. Then every few miles, 
turns in the road would bring us in view of little seaports 
beneath, with their half-circle harbors, light-houses, and white 
walls standing out conspicuously on the deep blue of the sea, 
while the feluccas and great lateen sails, gliding into their 
ports, reminded one strikingly of panoramic views and paint- 
ings, or of those brilliant blue and white pictures of Mediter- 
ranean seaports which we sometimes see suspended in mer 
chants' counting-rooms in America. 

The ride was interesting, charming, and exhilarating ; for, 
far off upon one side of us stretched the magnificent, ever 
changing mountain scenery, and at the other, fai down below, 
was the beautiful sea view, with numerous ports, clusters of 
shipping, and pretty indentations, while the road itself was 
smooth, hard, and in good condition, and our carriage rattled 
over it at the full trot, to the occasional music of the whip- 
cracks of the driver. We lunched, as we descended, at a 
wretched little Italian port, and walked down to the sea-side, 
while our food was in course of preparation, to pick up peb- 
bles and get a near view of the Mediterranean, which, until 
this day, I had never looked upon except on the maps in 
the school geographies. 

Continuing our journey, we passed hundreds — I may al- 
mc<t say, thousands — of a species of cactus along by the 



538 GENOA. 

road-side, ranging in size from that of a soup plate to greac 
pointed blades eight feet in height. Upon one side of the 
road, a complete fence or barrier of these plants was made, 
of nearly a mile in length ; and a very effective guard it was, 
with its tough, broad leaves ranged close together, with their 
aggressive and thorny blades. 

But however pleasant post- riding on the continent, oveT 
one of the mountain roads, may be, twelve or fifteen hours 
of it a day become fatiguing, and we were not sorry when 
our carriage rolled into the streets of Genoa at nine P. M., 
and, after twisting round through a dozen or more crooked 
streets, landed us at the Hotel Feder. " La Superba," and 
" City of Palaces," are the ostentatious titles that the Gen- 
oese have applied to this place ; but one hardly gets an idea 
of anything very " superb " down in the old part of the city, 
where the hotels are situated, for here the streets are narrow 
— narrow as lanes, in fact, and not over-clean. Tbe hotel 
Croce di Malta is one directly fronting the shipping and har- 
bor, and from its great massive turrets we get a fine view of 
the latter. This hotel, a huge, castle-like building, was, in 
fact, a sti'onghold of the Knights of Malta, and from its bat- 
tlements they looked forth watchfully upon the sea. Upon 
this front street, like those fronting the wharves in our great 
cities, seem to be the most vehicles. But as we recede into 
the narrower streets of the old town, vehicles are few in 
number, and pedestrians, loungers, and lazzaroni abundant. 
Our hotel is a stately building, on an alley that widens into 
a square, from which runs a narrow street lined with jewelry 
and fancy goods stores, in which the elegant silver filigree 
work, which is a specialty of Genoa, is displayed. This fili- 
gree is composed of fine wires of silver, elegantly wrought 
and twisted into the shape of wreaths, flowers, butterflies, 
ana various artistic and fanciful figures, and is all sold by 
weight. Although originally of pure white, delicate, frosty- 
looking silver, it is also often electro-plated with gold. 

Let not the unsophisticated reader imagine, either, when 
we speak of a fancy goods or jewelry store in the old city of 



STREETS OF GENOA. 539 

Genoa, a spacious, well-lighted establishment, with great 
plate-glass windows, and a forty or a one hundred feet front- 
age. Imagine, rather, a little, one-windowed, narrow, deep, 
dark store, in a crowded street, the whole frontage of the 
store door and window not exceeding fifteen or eighteen feet, 
and you have it. The buildings on these little, narrow 
streets, though, are of the most massive character, seemingly 
built, as in warm countries, of solid masonry, to keep out the 
heat, and are, many of them, of great height, while the nar- 
row streets are most effectually shaded by them from the 
sun. There are but very few vehicles that pass beneath our 
windows, or into the square ; but the patter of feet, and the 
clatter of voices in the evening, are great. 

Genoa must look beautifully from the sea, as it is built 
upon a height rising gradually some five hundred feet out 
from the shore ; and, as we get out from the tortuous and 
narrow lanes of the old city, the squares and streets assume 
a less antique and cramped appearance. There are three 
great streets, the principal of which is the Strada Nuova, 
which is filled with lofty and elegant buildings, streets of 
palaces, many of them with unpretending exteriors, but with 
rich linings. One contains the most extensive collection of 
engravings in Italy — nearly sixty thousand ; another is rich 
in paintings ; a third in autograph letters, and relics of the 
great navigator, Christopher Columbus, who, your guide will 
be sure to inform you, " deescoovare Amereeke." 

In one of the squares we saw the elegant marble monu- 
ment erected to him — a circular shaft, bearing his full-length 
statue resting his hand upon a kneeling figure, while about 
the base of the column were four other allegorical statues, and 
beautiful bass-reliefs upon the four panels. 

The visitor may have his feast of relics in the cathedral and 
the Church of St. Ambrogio, if he desires ; but, after getting 
round upon the " grand tour " as far as this, he will probably 
find that he has seen fragments enough of the true cross to 
have made half a dozen of them, nails enough to have filled a 
keg, and bones enough of certain named saints to have set up 
two or three entire e keletons of the same individual. 



540 PALLAvicnsri gardens. 

One of the most delightful places to visit in the vicinity of 
Genoa is the Pallavicini Gardens, a few miles out. These 
gardens, though not remarkably extensive, are laid out in the 
most ingenious, beautiful, and expensive manner. Arriving 
at the villa, you ascend a flight of stairs in the house, and step 
out upon a broad and magnificent terrace of white marble, from 
which there is one of the most charming views imaginable of 
Genoa belo"vs , the blue sea beyond, and, far in the distance tho 
peaks of Corsican mountains. Directly below this terrace are 
others, decorated with vases and broad flights of white marble 
steps and balusters, and upon these terraces are grand parterres 
of flowers, and tall orange and lemon trees growing, elegaut 
camellias of every hue, roses, great rhododendrons, and beau- 
tiful azaleas. 

Walking through an avenue of flowers and shrubbery from 
here, you come to an exquisite little Grecian temple in white 
marble, beautifully frescoed. Then you pass through another 
walk, arranged in Italian style, with beautiful vases and rare 
shrubs. Another turning, and you come to a pretty rustic 
cottage, with all the surroundings so contrived as to make a 
charming natural picture. You ascend a height, and encoun- 
ter a picturesque ruined tower (artificial), and from the height 
enjoy charming views in every direction. You descend the 
hill, and come to a miniature cavern of stalactites, through 
which the guide conducts you. It is filled with natural won- 
ders — crystallizations and beautiful petrifactions, brought at 
immense expense from every part of Italy, and so arranged as 
to make an apparently natural formation — a natural grotto, 
gorgeous in the extreme. In the dark recesses of this cavern 
you reach a river, an ornamental boat approaches, and _you 
are rowed silently through great arches of gloomy caverns, 
winding hither and thither, apparently into the innermost 
bowels of the earth, until you begin to fear the guide may 
have lost his way, when suddenly the boat shoots forth upon 
the bosom of a charming little lake, surrounded by objects of 
interest and beauty on every side. 

The first object that attracts the attention is an artificial 



GARDENING EFFECTS. 541 

island an the centre of the lake, upon which is a beautifully- 
sculptured, miniature Temple of Diana, containing a statue 
of the goddess. Then you come to several small island?, 
connected by means of Chinese bridges, with all the sur 
roundings Chinese. A Chinese pagoda, with its gay sides 
and beil-tipped peaks, rises near at hand. Chinese lanterns 
are suspended, and a bamboo and tiled Chinese house, seen 
through Oriental shrubbery, transports you in imagination, 
without much effort, to the land of the Celestials. 

At other points in these wonderful gardens are similar arti- 
ficial effects. One portion is planned to represent Egyptian 
ruins. A needle-like obelisk, covered with hieroglyphics, 
rises upon a sandy shore, and shattered columns, friezes, and 
sculptures are strewn on the ground. Some rest in the water, 
and the lotus flower near by, with a solemn, ibis-looking bird 
or two standing about, completes the illusion. There were 
little wildernesses of charming walks amid beautiful, orna 
mental gardening, where the senses were charmed with flow- 
ers of every hue and perfume, where aromatic and curious 
shrubs challenged the attention, and made the air as fragrant. 
as a land breeze off the Spice Islands. 

Then there was one feature which our guide seemed to 
think the one of the whole, and that was the ingenious tricks 
and deceptions which had been arranged with water. I may 
as well observe that this guide, like many of his race in 
Italy, was an inordinate lover of garlic. That dreadful odor 
enveloped him like a halo, and when he opened his mouth to 
speak, there was a perceptible widening of our circle of listen- 
ers to get beyond the range; but it was impossible unless the 
wind were in your favor, for the fellow fairly reeked with the 
effluvia from every pore of his greasy, oily, Italian hide, and 
poisoned the atmosphere in his vicinity. Each of our party 
of four took his turn in occupying the position next to the 
guide in his detour of the gardens. No one of us could have 
endured it the whole distance. 

The water surprises consist of a series of ingenious tricks 
for drenching and showering visitors — considered a capita] 



542 WATER JOKES. 

joke, no doubt, in Italy ; but ladies who can have a delicate 
silk dress watered with a watering-pot a discretion, without 
the surprise, and gentlemen who are not partial to having 
two or three pints of water squirted into their faces and 
upon their shirt-bosoms, do not appreciate the joke. 

One of these consists of a door placed just ajar, at a pas- 
sage leading into an attractive little nook. The exploring 
tourist, in endeavoring to open it farther, by the motion ho 
communicates to the door, receives a stream full in the face. 
A Chinese bridge is so constructed that the visitor, on reach- 
ing its centre, finds himself surrounded by fine streams of 
water all playing towards him, from which it is impossible to 
escape unless by rushing through the jets oVeau. Upon one 
of the little Chinese islands an ornamental swing invites the 
visitor, who no sooner is enjoying the motion than a fine spray 
greets him in the face ; and another stream is so contrived as 
continually to strike the bottom of the open-work seat as he 
glides to and fro. We only experienced one of these sur- 
prises, and the volley of the denunciation that the guide re- 
ceived from the linguist of our party in his own tongue, 
coupled with various powerful English expletives from the 
others, the import of which was unmistakable, evidently con- 
vinced him that it would not be to his advantage to play his 
tricks upon that party of travellers ; and he did not. However, 
the gardens are the most beautiful and attractive imaginable. 
No amount of money has been spared in their care, or the dec- 
orations we have mentioned, all of which are of the most costly 
and expensive character — an evidence to what an extent artis- 
tic taste may be carried with unlimited means behind it. 

Uaving"done" what was possible of Genoa in the brief time 
allowed, we took train for Turin, en route for Paris, the rail- 
way carrying us through magnificent mountain scenery, great 
tunnels, and fine specimens of railway engineering, through 
the city of Alessandria, and past its frowning citadel, through 
ihe city of Asti, surrounded by picturesque hills, upon which 
probably the vines grow that produce the wine " Asti," which 
ngures on the hotel bills of fare, and which is warmly com 



TURIN TO SUSA. 543 

mended by landlords and sometimes travellers; but my own 
experience convinces me there should have been an " N " pre- 
fixed, to have given the proper name to that which I tasted cf 
the brand. 

On we go, through smiling vineyards and grain-fields, and 
by and by catch a distant view of our old acquaintances, the 
snowy-peaked Alps, against the horizon. We reached Turin 
at eight o'clock in the evening, and were driven, through the 
bright gas-lighted street s from the station at a spanking pace, 
to the Hotel de l'Europe, situated in a grand square opposite 
the king's palace, and kept in a style befitting its position. I 
do not think, in the whole of our tour, we found a hotel its 
equal, certainly not its superior, in admirable cuisine, prompt 
attendance, reasonable prices, and comfortable appointments. 
Although arriving at eight P. M., and but four in party, a 
dinner, in regular courses, was served for us, with luxuries 
and a style that I have seldom seen equalled. The comforts 
and enjoyments of this admirable establishment caused us to 
regret to leave it, as we were compelled to early next morn- 
ing, without seeing the city, except such portion of it as we 
rode through on our way to the station of the railway by 
which we were to reach Susa, from whence we were to cross 
Mount Cenis by carnage. 

This carriage trip over the mountain we arranged tor at 
the hotel in Turin, with Joseph Borgo, the somewhat cele- 
brated proprietor, who stipulated to have a first-class carriage 
for four persons, to convey us over the mountain to San 
Michel, to provide four horses, change a certain number of 
times, and occupy certain hours in the transit — all of which 
was duly filled out in writing, and for which we paid two 
tumdred and fifty-five francs (fifty-one dollars), which included 
all expenses except our own personal hotel bills. The car 
riage was promised to meet us at the station in Susa. 

A railway ride of thirty-three miles brought us to Susa , 
and there, with the driver harnessing up four splendid dapple 
grays, stood an establishment in which one would not have 
been ashamed to have made his appearance on the drive at 



544 A SPANKING TEAM. 

Central Park, New York, — bright, new, and modern built, 
and very like a modern American barouche, save that the seat 
usually occupied by the driver was a trifle higher, shielded by 
a chaise-top, and reserved for two outside passengers, the 
driver's seat being below it, nearer the horses. 

We were wondering as to the whereabouts of our own 
carriage, and what grand duke was to take this handsome 
equipage, while the common people were entering diligences 
and the usual dust-covered, creaking, and rickety coaches 
one becomes so accustomed to in Italy, when we observed 
our own luggage being carefully bestowed upon the rack 
behind, and we were approached by Borgo's agent, who in- 
quired if we had a "billet" for the " voiture ;" and uj)on pro- 
ducing our lithographed and signed ticket, the carriage was 
brought up to where our group of a lady and three gentlemen 
stood, with the usual Italian whip-cracking. 

The agent threw open the door with a flourish, and, 
" Entrez^ monsieur; we is ready." 

Two seated themselves upon the box-seat, two upon the 
back seat of the open barouche ; the door was closed with a 
bang, the polite agent raised his hat. 

"Bon voyage''''; and the driver, firing a volley of whip 
cracks, the four grays started off with a clatter of silver- 
mounted harness, on a smart trot, as we rode away in the 
best appointed equipage it had been our fortune to enjoy 
in our whole European tour. 

This fact contributed to mitigate the conviction *.hat fifty- 
one dollars in gold was a pretty high price, as it was, for a 
fourteen hour's ride, compared with that paid for carriages in 
other parts of Italy for similar journeys. Borgo, however, 
had a monopoly of the best carriages, and was always sure of 
English tourists, who would take none other, and really per- 
forms his service thoroughly and well, without any attendant 
vexations, delays, humbugs, or swindles — a great considera- 
tion to the tourist. 

The Mont Cenis Pass, it will be remembered, was built 
by order of Napoleon I., by engineer Fabbroni, and the cnl- 



MT. CEN18 PAbS. 54S 

minuting point of it reaches an elevation of sixty-seven hun- 
dred and seventy-five feet above the level of the sea. The 
original cost of the road was three hundred thousand pounds, 
although a large additional amount has since been expended 
upon it. It is the safest and most frequented route between 
France and Italy, and it was by this road the French troops 
entered Italy in 1859. 

The beautiful mountain views of this grand ride, if described, 
would be to the reader almost a repetition of others given in 
these pages. The great sweeps of scenery from the zigzags 
of the road, the old Hospice of the monks that we halt at, 
the boundary line between France and Italy, all claim atten- 
tion as we roll along upon our journey, and feel in the atmos- 
phere that we are leaving Italy's penetrating heat, and, let 
.us hope, also its flies and filthiness, behind us. Italy was left 
behind; houses of refuge on the mountain road had been 
passed, grand scenery viewed, great curves and wondrous 
windings been marvelled at, and our aching bones confessed 
that even in the best-appointed vehicles, fatigue is not a 
stranger ; so we were not sorry at night to reach the dirty 
little Hotel de la Poste, in the muddy little village of San 
Michel, in French dominions — Savoy. 

Next forenoon we bade adieu to post travelling, taking 
train at two P. M. for Macon, on the Saone River, about 
forty miles north of the city of Lyons, where we saw a pretty 
quay along the river, and a bridge over it, and learned 
that the city was chiefly dependent on its wine trade for 
business. The same chain of hills that protect the vine- 
yards of that noted wine-growing department of Fiance 
known as Cote d'Or, extends through the department of 
Saone et Loire, of which Macon is the capital; but from 
some causes the wines are not so fine as those of that cele- 
brated district : hoAvever, Macon wines, which are set down 
on most of the hotel bills of fare in Europe and our own 
country, are served here in their original purity and excel- 
lence, which cannot always be said of them in America. 
Coming here, we passed Lake Bourget, which Lamartme 
35 



546 FRENCH REVENUE OFFICERy. 

mentions in his poetry as "the lake;" it looked very grandly 
under the influence of a violent September gale, which was 
raising its waves like a miniature ocean, at Culoz, where we 
dined. 

Passing the night at Macon, we left next day for Paris, 
reaching the city at seven o'clock P. M. Here once more we 
experienced some of the excellent arrangements characterizing 
great cities in foreign countries. Not a passenger was per- 
mitted to enter that portion of the great station till the bag- 
gage was all unloaded and sorted, which was done with 
marvellous celerity and skill, each foreign party's pieces being 
selected by some clews they had, and jDiled together. 

This being done, we were permitted to enter ; and a customs 
officer, as we designated our trunks, inquired if they contained 
eau de cologne, fire-arms, and various other things, in a sort 
of formula that he repeated. We had nothing " to declare " 
for Paris, as we assured this functionary our luggage was 
packed for America ; in fact, some of it was a sort of hetero- 
geneous puzzle of shirts, Swiss carved work, coats, stockings, 
stereoscopic views, boots, Genoese jewelry, handkerchiefs, 
Vienna leather, guide-books, and photographs, such as all 
tourists become acquainted with, more or less, upon their first 
experience on the "grand tour." With a polite wave of the 
hand, the officer summoned another, who also spoke English, 
and whose duty it was to despatch foreigners to their several 
destinations in the city : this person, in his turn, after learning 
the quarter of the city we wished to reach, calling two railway 
porters, transferred our luggage to a carriage in waiting, told 
the driver in French where to carry us, and ourselves in Eng- 
lish what we were to pay for the service, and, bowing polite- 
ly, turned on his heel, and we were once more rattling over 
the smooth asphalt pave of Paris, the streets and cafes of 
which were ablaze with gas, the windows gay with brilliant 
display of goods, and the broad Boulevards thronged Avitli 
crowds of pedestrians. 

Having experienced the swindles and inconveniences ot 
the Grand Hotel and Hotel de l'Athenee, we were more than 



PAKIS AGAIN. 547 

grateful to find an excellent American boarding-house upon 
the Boulevard Haussman, fronting the Rue Tronchet, com- 
manding an extended view of the Boulevard and the Made- 
leine, and kept by Miss Emily Herring, a New York lady, 
where excellent accommodations, prompt service, and good 
cuisine were had, and no vexatious swindling " extras " or 
"bougies" put in the bill, French fashion, which is so exasper- 
ating to the English and American tourists. 

Having sight-seen Paris so much at a former visit, one 
might imagine but little remained to be done ; but such is not 
the case in this great capital, though now, with our faces set, 
as it were, homewards, there was but little time remaining for 
that purpose. A visit to the sewers was an excursion that 
we desired to make, especially with the remembrance of Jean 
Valjean's experiences, in Victor Hugo's story, Les Miserables, 
fresh in mind. Having obtained a permit from the proper 
authorities, we found, on arriving at the point designated, 
that we were one of a party of a dozen ladies and gentlemen. 
We looked somewhat askant at the silk and muslin dresses 
of the former, as being hardly the costume one would select 
for going down into a drain with, and wondered whether the 
olfactories of the wearers would be proof against what might 
assail them during their visit. But our doubts, as will be 
seen, were soon removed on this point. 

Descending through a large iron trap-door in the sidewalk, 
near the Church of the Madeleine, by a stone staircase, we 
found ourselves in-a handsome, vaulted, stone tunnel, twenty 
feet high, with granite sidewalks on each side, between which, 
in a space perhaps ten feet wide and five deep, ran the sew- 
age. By some admirable system of ventilation, these sewers 
are kept so clean and sweet that no more offence is done to 
the olfactories than in a wash-room. Overhead run great 
iron pipes, by which the city is supplied with pure water ; 
also telegraph wires, enclosed in lead pipes, by which com- 
munication is had with the police and official stations in dif- 
ferent parts of the city. But we were to make a trip through 
the sewers. Two or three open cars, with cushioned seats, 



548 DOWN IN THE SEWERS. 

holding twelve persons, and lighted by a brilliant carcel lamp 
in front, were in readiness, and into these the ladies and gen- 
tlemen of the party were bestowed. The car runs on a track 
placed on the edge of the flowing sewage, and is propelled by 
men who run on a narrow stone pathway, and push it. 

Away we went, through the great arched tunnel, now and 
then hearing the faint rumble of vehicles sound above, as we 
pass beneath some great thoroughfare. We know exactly 
what quarter of the city we are beneath by the little blue 
china signs, bearing the names of the streets, which are posted 
at intervals along the walls, and every now and then pass 
intersecting sewers discharging their floods into the main 
artery. We ride smoothly along for a mile or two, are 
switched off into side passages, back into the main one, ride 
perhaps a mile or so more, then come to a stop, and ascend 
into a square of the city far distant from where we started, 
convinced that this is the most admirable system of sewage 
that could possibly be devised, and that for sanitary purposes 
nothing could be better. Not only, let it be borne in mind, 
is the sewage carried off beneath the ground, but even the 
very sewers themselves kept so clean and neat, and withal 
so perfectly ventilated, that ladies and gentlemen may pass 
through them without soiling their clothing or offence to 
the senses. 

We were told that, when completed, there would be nearly 
four hundred miles of these sewers, and that not only could 
they be made use of for conveying the waste drainage of the 
city away, but could be used for the purpose of underground 
communication of troops from one point of the city to another, 
in case of revolutionary riots, when passage above ground 
might be disputed for four times the number. ' 



SIC TRANSIT." 549 



CHAPTER XV. 

And now we were once more to cross that narrow strip of 
troubled water which separates Gallic shores from perfide 
Albion, and whose horrors doubtless have much to do with 
the dread that so many travelled Englishmen have of cross- 
ing the Atlantic. But as has often been remarked, one may 
cross the Atlantic with scarce a qualm, and yet be utterly 
prostrated, for the time being, on the vile little tubs of pas- 
senger boats in crossing the English Channel — a trip which 
the tourist inwardly, with what inwards are left of him, 
thanks Providence is made in less than two hours. The 
good fortune of a comparatively smooth sea, quiet, bright 
day, and passage made without a single case of sea-sickness, 
which was vouchsafed us when coming over, did not attend 
us on our return trip, which was made from Boulogne to 
Folkestone. 

On arrival at the French pier, a good stiff breeze in our 
faces, and ominous white caps to the waves outside, indicat- 
ed to us what we were to expect. We sought the captain, 
an Englishman. " Was there no other accommodation than 
the deck," with its suggestive pile of wash-bowls ? The close 
little cabin was already fully occupied. 

" No, sir ; better keep on deck — shall be over in little more 
than an hour." 

We remembered the captain's nationality, and the weak- 
ness of his countrymen, and determined to make the usual 
trial. 

"Captain, isn't there a private state-room? (looking hira 
fixedly in the eye, and jingling some coin musically in one of 
my pockets). 

" There isn't a nook in the ship (?), sir, that isn't chock up. 



550 ENGLISH RFDENESS. 

full, but ray own state-room, and I sometimes — if a suvren's 
to be made — don't mind — " 

A gold coin bearing the effigy of Napoleon was in his hand 
before he could speak another word. 

"This way, sir. You and madam will find a couple of 
nice bunks there ; it'll be a head wind and rough passage ; 
keep on your back, sir, and you're all right. Tom, mind yer 
<jye, and look out for the lady 'n' gen'leman." 

The captain's comfortable state-room was worth the " tip," 
for in three minutes after leaving the pier a dozen were sick, 
and in a quarter of an hour so were seven eighths of all on 
board ; and here we had the satisfaction of being wretched in 
private, and served by Tom, a brisk boy, with an eye to a 
shilling in prospective, instead of grovelling in abject misery 
on deck, in company with fifty or sixty other pitiable objects, 
and served by two gruff old he chambermaids, who peram- 
bulated back and forth with mops, swabs, and wash-bowls. 

Arrived at Folkestone, which is a place of fashionable re- 
sort, we found, on stepping ashore, drawn up in two parallel 
lines extending from the landing stage up for twenty rods 
or more towards the train that was in waiting, a large depu- 
tation of fashionably-dressed men and women, besides curious 
idlers in waiting to inspect and stare at the victims of Nep- 
tune's punishment. There stood these English people, who, 
probably, passed in their circles among their countrymen for 
ladies and gentlemen, sticklers for laws of etiquette and po- 
liteness, no doubt, — in two long parallel lines, like a regiment 
on dress parade ; and between these lines the passengers, all 
bedraggled, pale, and limpy with sea-sickness, and hampered 
with the paraphernalia of travel, were obliged to pass, sub- 
jected to the stare of vapid swells with straw-colored side 
whiskers and eye-glasses, and young women with sea-side 
hats and parasols, who looked each passer by up and down 
and all over with the critical eye of a recruiting officer, making 
those of their own sex more mortified at their dishabille, and 
the other indignant at this insulting stare. But the familiar 
sound of the English tongue on every side was music to out 



WONDERS OF LONDON. 551 

ears ; the railway porters and guards of the train in waiting 
all spoke English when they asked us where we wished 
to go. 

About seventy miles' railroad ride and we were at London ; 
and notwithstanding the advantages of comparison we had 
enjoyed in the seeing of Paris, Vienna, and other European 
capitals, we could not help feeling again, as on our first visit, 
impressed with the vastness of this great city. Mile after 
mile of street after street, and still we went past miles of 
stores and miles of houses, streets of shops, streets of dwell- 
ings, squares; a cross street, and presto! out again into 
another apparently endless street of great retail stores, with 
gayly-dressed shop windows, and crowds of vehicles and pe- 
destrians ; through another street, past a grand park, with its 
green grass and broad acres, and stately dwellings about it ; 
on amid the never-ending roar, and clatter, and hum, and rush 
of cabs, great omnibuses, drays, wagons, gay equipages, and 
nobby dog carts — a never-ending, never-ceasing, constantly 
changing, moving panorama of novel sights and scenes. 

LONDON. It is, indeed, a great capital; only think of a 
city covering an area of one hundred and twenty-five square 
miles, and containing three millions of inhabitants; where 
more than eighteen hundred children are born every week, 
and over twelve hundred deaths per week are recorded. 
London, which was a British settlement before the Romans 
came to England; which was burned and ravaged by the 
Danish robbers of 851, and a city which King Alfred rebuilt 
and Canute lived in ; London, a great city of over one hun- 
dred and forty thousand inhabitants in Queen Elizabeth's 
time; London, that figures in Shakespeare, and Byron, and 
Dickens, and that we have read of in romances and novels, 
and studied about in histories and geographies, from child- 
hood up. 

There is enough for the sight-seer, the student, the anti- 
quarian, or the tourist to enjoy in this wondrous old city if he 
Stays in it a year. I have really been amused to hear some 
of our American tourists, who visit Europe for the usual tour, 



b52 SEEING LONDON. 

reply, on being asked if" they had seen London, "O, yes, we 
saw everything ; staid there a whole week." 

This is about the amount of time bestowed on the rare old 
city by the many fashionable American tourists, who art; in 
haste to get into the glare and glitter of Paris, and who man- 
age by brisk labor to skim over the principal sights, such as 
racing through Westminster Abbey, running about St. Paul's, 
giving a few hours to the British Museum, skurrying through 
the Tower and the Houses of Parliament, and devoting a few 
evening hours to Madame Tussaud's and some of the theatres. 
Then there are those who go over and make no stop at Lon- 
don at first, reserving it to visit on their homeward trip from 
the continent, and find all too late that they have used up too 
much time in other places, and have not reserved a tithe of 
what they ought, to see it, ere they must prepare for the 
home ward-bound steamer. 

A great deal, I grant, may be seen of London in a fortnight's 
time, if the tourist works industriously, and buckles to the 
task early and late ; but the real lover of travel will find six 
weeks to be none too long, and may find abundance of that, 
which is novel, interesting, and instructive fully to occupy his 
attention that length of time. I cannot but think that early 
spring — say the last of April and first of May — is the very best 
time to visit England ; the season seems a month in advance 
of ours in New England, and the tourist sees how much more 
sensible "crowning a May Queen," "going a Maying," and 
dancing round a May-pole, are there the first of May, where 
the flowers are springing and the air is balmy, than in our New 
England, where chilly east winds seem like the parting breath 
of winter, and only snow-drops and crocuses dare to put forth 
an appearance on the south, sunny sides of banks or protect- 
ing walls. 

After shopping abroad, the good, square, solid honesty of 
the London shopmen is more fully appreciated, and especially 
do Americans see here that there is an effort by the trades- 
man who has gained any celebrity for a specialty — the tailor 
boot maker, the umbrella maker, or even a mutton r>ie vender 



LOOKING TOWARDS HOME. 553 

lo keep his articles up to the original standard, that they 
may be always reliable, and become a proverb among pur- 
chasers. This is in contrast with many of our American 
dealers, who, after "getting a run" on goods, eudeavor to 
realize a larger and more immediate profit by adroitly lower- 
ing the standard of quality, or by skilful adulteration. 

But we must pack our trunks for the homeward voyage. 
A very large portion of this preparation I had done in Paris 
by a professional packer, styled an embcdleur, an individual 
so skilled in folding ladies' voluminous dresses and gentle- 
men's coats, that they come forth without a wrinkle, and who 
stows away in one of your trunks almost double the amount 
that you think it could possibly be made to contain — a ser- 
vice, the expense of which is trifling, but which saves the 
tourist a vast amount of time, as well as vexatious and te- 
dious labor. 

More than six months of " living in a trunk," and a con- 
stant succession of novelty, and continuous travel from one 
point to another, living at hotels, " grand," good, indifferent, 
and bad, naturally incline one to long for rest and quiet ; and, 
passionately fond of travel as one may be, there are but few 
I have ever encountered, who devoted half a year constantly 
and faithfully to it, but were willing to acknowledge sight- 
seeing to be some of the hardest labor they ever performed. 

There is one thing that also tends to give the student or 
lover of travel something of an unsatisfied feeling, as his 
journey draws near its close, especially if he has been limited 
as to time ; and that is, the thought of how much there is* 
in Europe to study and to see, and how little, comparatively, 
he has accomplished. Yet, even with this feeling, the author 
could not help hugging to his heart the real, solid enjoyment 
that had been experienced in visiting those scenes hallowed 
in dreams of youthful imagination, in realizing the hopes 
and anticipations of years, and also the thought of what a 
pleasure the memory of these sights and scenes in foreign 
lands would be, in years to come, as they were recalled to 
mind. 



554 LAST PURCHASES. 

" But the ship it is ready, 
And the wind it is fair," 

and O, how far our home does seem from us over the ocean; 
now that we have had practical experience upon its broad 
billows. But this thought is lost in the anticipa don of meet- 
ing friends and loved ones whom we have not looked upon 
for six long months, and a return to familiar scenes of home, 
for which the heart yearns, notwithstanding the attractions 
by which we may be surrounded. 

A last shopping in London for English umbrellas, ladies' 
water-proofs, French dog-skin gloves (made in England), 
English walking shoes, Cartwright & Warner's under cloth- 
ing, sole leather trunks, furs, which you can buy so very 
much cheaper than in America ; books, such as you think you 
can get through the custom-house ; a few comforts for the 
voyage, which former experience has taught you that you will 
require, and you are ready. 

Down to the office of the Cunard steamers, in London, we 
went, to learn at what hour the ship would leave Liverpool, 
and other particulars. This office we found to be in one of 
those buildings which your genuine Londoner so delights in 
for a place of business. The greater the magnitude of a 
merchant's or banker's business, and the wealthier he is, the 
more dingy, contracted, dark, and inconvenient he seems to 
like to have his counting-house or business quarters. There 
is nothing the old-fashioned London millionnaire seems to 
have such a horror of, as a bright, fresh office, with plate 
glass, oak or marble counters, plenty of light, broad mahog- 
any desks, and spacious counting-house. He seems to delight 
in a dingy old building, down in the depths of the city, with 
walls thick enough for a fortification; built, perhaps, in 
Queen Elizabeth's time, and so smoke-begrimed that you 
can't tell the original color of the stones. A narrow, squat 
doorway, over which an almost obliterated sign-board bears 
the name of the firm, — the original members of which have 
been dead a century, and not one of the present members 
bear* it, — is an indication of the Englishman's substantial 



ENGLISH OONSEBVAT1&M. 065 

character, and how averse he is to change, — knowing that 
with his countrymen, the knowledge that the firm of " Fogy 
Brothers " has been known all over the world for a century 
as responsible merchants, is capital in itself, and one worth 
having. 

In America, from the nature of things and our manner of 
doing business, we are apt to infer, and often correctly, such 
a concern is " slow," infected with " dry rot," does not " keep 
up with the times," or is " rusting out," while the younger 
blood of Wider Wake & Co., with their vigor and progressive 
spirit, so infects all about them with their enterprise as to 
command success, and even attract from the older concern a 
portion of that which cannot brook the tedious circumlocu- 
tion of those who are tardy in availing themselves of the real 
improvements of the age. 

I have been into the counting-rooms of men worth millions, 
in London, which, in convenience and appliances for clerical 
labor, were not equal to those of a Boston retail coal-seller, or 
haberdasher, and others whose warehouses would give the 
uninitiated American an impression that they were old junk 
stores, instead of the headquarters of a firm whose name was 
known, and whose bills were honored, in almost every capital 
in Europe. A mousing visit among some of these old places 
in the city is very interesting, and has been made more so by 
some of the inimitable descriptions of Dickens. In fact, on 
my return to London, I could not help longing for an oppor- 
tunity to spend some weeks here, and, in company with 
some old resident, to explore the curious old nooks and cor- 
ners of the city, which contain so much that is noted in his 
tory, exhibit so many different phases of life, and hold so 
much that, described, would be as novel to half of London 
itself, as photographs of the depths of an African forest. 

The steamship office was down in an old building which 
had once been a dwelling-house, and there was the old front 
door, small old baluster and stair rail, and rooms almost the 
same as they had been left years ago, when a family dwelt 
there. Your Londoner always uses these old places just ai 



556 REUNION OF TOURISTS. 

long as he can possibly make them pay without putting a 
shilling's worth of expense upon them. So we stumbled up 
the dark staircase, and tumbled into the lew-studded room 
that might once have" been the family parlor, where the 
requisite information was obtained of the clerks in at- 
tendance. 

When about to return home by steamer, telegraph to the 
Adelphi, or the hotel you intend to stop at in Liverpool, the 
Jay before you take passage in advance, or you may not have 
a desirable room for your last night's sleep on shore, for these 
Liverpool hotels are all full, at the arrival and departure of 
the steamers, of passengers who are arriving and departing. 

Coming down into the coffee-room of the hotel for his last 
English breakfast, the tourist will doubtless meet, as we did, 
numerous Americans who have been rambling over the conti- 
nent for months, and are now, like himself, homeward bound. 

" Hallo, Binks ! — is that you ? How are you ? Why, we 
saw your name on the register atop of Mount Righi six 
months ago. Thought you'd gone home." 

" No, sir ! Been everywhere, seen everything. By the by, 
speaking of seeing names, we travelled right after you in 
Italy, got to Danieli's, in Venice, day after you left, found 
your name in Florence, bought some filigree stuff at same 
shop you did in Genoa." 

Up comes another to exchange greetings, whom you met in 
Strasburg Cathedral, and who has been to Rome, as you see 
by his scarf-pin, and introduces his wife, who has been in 
Vienna, as you observe by her Russia leather travelling-bag. 
They have also been to Florence, as you see by the daughter's 
mosaics. In fact, after an exj^erience in shopping on the con- 
tinent, you can tell by the costumes, ornaments, or travelling 
paraphernalia of many of the homeward-bound Yankees, a) 
most to a certainty, the leading cities which they have visited 
during their tour abroad. They all seem to have seen the 
same sights in the same cities, and talk as glibly about 
crossing over Rue Rivoli, and going up Rue Scribe, or " when 
we were riding out in the bwar one afternoon," as if they 



ALL ABOARD. 



557 



were as familiar with Paris all their lives as they are with 
Wall Street, Fifth Avenue, Beacon Street, Chester Park, or 
Chestnut Street. 

Amusing also to the old traveller must be the ease with 
which some, who have had but a three months' "scoot" over 
the continent, speak of "running down to Rome," or "stop- 
ping at Berlin a day or two," or " the day we went over the 
Alps," " pretty place is Lucerne. We staid there all day." 
We could but think ourselves, however, that one needs six 
months' travel in Europe in order to leam how to see it, and 
to prepare for a second visit. 

We must be at the " landing stage " at the dock at twelve 
o'clock ; so the placard posted in the hotel informs us. And 
on arrival there with our pile of luggage, we find a fussy little 
Pancks of a steam-tug waiting to take the mails and luggage 
aboard, and another to take the passengers themselves. 
Here, on the pier, are the usual scenes of parting and leave- 
taking, and some few privileged ones go out on the tug to the 
steamer, which lies in the stream half a mile away, emitting 
volumes of black smoke, and gathering strength for her jour- 
ney. Forests of masts are at the docks, one or two huge 
vessels of war out in the stream, some great, dismantled hulks 
on an opposite shore, and a fresh sea breeze coming in, curls 
the dark-blue waves over with a white fringe, making the 
whole scene appear very like dozens of " marine views " that, 
we have seen in art galleries. 

Stepping on board, we are at once in the midst of a tre- 
mendous crowd of luggage and passengers, ship's crew, stew- 
ards, and officers, mixed up in every direction. We have the 
number of our state-room, and get the steward and porter of 
the section in which it is situated pointed out to us by an 
obliging officer. Both of these individuals seem in too great 
a hurry to stop and hear us as we commence a request ; 
but we have profited by experience. My hand is already in 
my pocket, a few hurried words, the quiet passage of her 
majesty's portrait in silver into the palm of the listener, and 
in five minutes the luggage for our state-room is there, and 



058 HOME AGAIN. 

the porter touches his hat, and asks if there is " anythink 
else, sir," while the steward comes soon after to tell me to 
" call for George whenever we want anything." Such is the 
mysterious power of her majesty's coin on her subjects. 

The reader need not have rehearsed again to him the ex- 
periences of the passage over, which differs but little from 
those already described in these pages, except that it was 
rougher, and, as the sailors say, " all up hill," while from 
America to England it is down, and that we counted the 
completion of each day's journey as so much nearer home. 
But when old Boston's spires came in sight, and the swelling 
dome of the State House rose to view, it seemed that we had 
looked upon no sight or scene in foreign lands, and visjted no 
place over the ocean that was a more pleasant picture to look 
upon — its attraction in our eyes heightened, no doubt, by that 
charm that invests one's native land and childhood's home. 



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